She touched bow to strings, playing a fifth. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse.
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