One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. He stopped before her suddenly. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. “You need a reason. So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace.
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