"My invitation did not extend to them. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. Why should WE hoard? We aren’t going out presently, like Japanese lanterns in a gale. She showered after she heard the door shut and the cars pull out of the driveway. She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering. Melusine tapped on it. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped.
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