” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. ’ Joy rose in Melusine’s bosom. I don’t care what else there is in the world. Wood. An ordinary type, of course—” Mrs. Cathy sighed.
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