From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. ‘You’ll come with us and get yourself safe back home to your convent, understand?’ ‘But wait,’ begged Melusine, hanging back. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. It was hot and dry. I took the usual way home. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know.
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