‘Melusine!’ Distracted, Gosse blinked and his eyes flicked away from Melusine’s just as she flung the fullness of her gathered petticoats in the way of his blade. She was quite assured that she would never see him again. “Vee,” she said, “come home. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. Nor as I’ve to put up with a French spy in my parlour—’ ‘Peste, how you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently, barely taking in his complaints. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. Half French.
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