266 She peered up at him. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. ’ ‘I am going to England,’ Melusine stated flatly, ‘because there is no safety at the convent at Blaye. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. . ” He ducked out. From under his pillow he dragged forth the key to the trunk. “Better state of mind,” she gasped.
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