The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. Of course this thing was absolutely impossible. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it. She was drawn first by Miss Miniver, and then by her own natural interest, into a curious stratum of people who are busied with dreams of world progress, of great and fundamental changes, of a New Age that is to replace all the stresses and disorders of contemporary life. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair.
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