Maybe it’s his loss. ’ There was sense in what she said, Melusine was obliged to concede. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. “Suppose, for example, I go to this dance?” “You won’t.
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