“Flesh and flowers are all alike to me. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. "It is droll," he said. ’ The one ray of light lifted Melusine’s gloom a little and she smiled. ” The lights were lowered, and an attentive waiter hovered round Anna’s cloak.
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