Lad, I admire you even in your folly. But in a moment, it was tucked under his arm and, raising the pistol again, he gestured towards the door opposite the one where Melusine stood. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. An ancient smile lay on his lips. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. We must never let your father know we went. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being.
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