Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. ’ ‘Because you are a pig!’ retorted Melusine hotly. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. “It is possible,” Courtlaw said, “that you too were deceived. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least.
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