The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. “And yet you still live, Butterfly. Only Leonardo, and then Jack, had shown her that she might be admired. Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. ‘But do you not see that he will come again? I think it is better if you, both of you, go and leave me here to find—’ She broke off, looking away. ” Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair. Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. But I was portentous, I can assure you. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle.
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