“There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. Her head dangled unnaturally for an instant, unleashed from its moorings, then sank to join her husband’s on the floor. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. “I am off to-night,” he said. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming.
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