Senior year started with a whimper. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed. Strange, I could never learn her history. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. On the right were several mounted grenadiers: on the left, some half dozen javelin-men. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. Following him, and acting out of instinct rather than intent, Melusine took a firm grasp of the gilt frame with both hands, lifted it high in the air and, with a shrieking curse, brought it down hard.
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