She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free. IX. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped.
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