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. He walked unsteadily towards the door. “We do not want the men,” said Miss Miniver; “we do not want them, with their sneers and loud laughter. “Child!” he cried. This door, which was open, Jonathan locked and took out the key. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. The child has sprung into a youth; the youth has become a man; the man has already begun to feel the advances of age. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess.
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