‘You will not, pig,’ cried Melusine. The summons was instantly answered by a shop-boy. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way.
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