The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. “See you at school tomorrow. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so. Where even to be a Catholic, they say, is to be looked upon with scorn and disgust.
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