'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. “It was not necessary,” Sir John answered stiffly. She visualized him as in a policeman’s uniform and quite impassive. She understood. She heard it open, but as she felt unable to look round in a careless manner she pretended not to hear it. I love you calling me Gérard and idiot, and I love you when you threaten me with every weapon under the sun, and—’ ‘Pah!’ interrupted Melusine, scorn in her voice. In his way he was critical.
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