Melusine tapped on it. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. I don’t want to bother you, of course. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. I'll wait for you down here. She had told him, point blank, that since the Church had neither annulled the first marriage nor sanctified the second one, she was not his wife. Once before—but that had been different. The world is known to you. . It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. He did not know—and probably never would unless she told him—that it was very easy (and comfortable for a woman) to fall into slatternly ways in this latitude.
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