‘Odd sort of a nun. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. I don’t know anyone. I may as well think. Nevertheless it was overwhelming. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. Something softened in Melusine’s chest. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door.
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