He advanced a step towards her. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. “What are you two whispering about?” She turned towards Martin. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. “It was the night you left Paris. Let me bind you up, and then you can attend to her. Rebellious and resentful, Melusine decided there and then that she would do exactly that, come what may. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation. Tell her, that more than once, when about to commit some desperate offence, I have been restrained by her gentle image.
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