It isn’t illusions—for us. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. Had to. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. He had to know the truth, Melusine.
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