But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail. ’ ‘You say—what?’ gasped Melusine. If he laid his own suspicions boldly before the girl, and in the end the boy came clean, he would always be haunted by the witless cruelty of the act. She had warned him. Ann Veronica loved beautiful things, and the beauty of undraped loveliness not least among them; but these were pictures that did but insist coarsely upon the roundness of women’s bodies. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. . The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. “I do mean that,” she declared. “You are a funny, a very funny young lady,” he said, “but we waste time here. She colored faintly. .
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