” He leaned towards her. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. Melusine—the real Melusine—would never have made such a stupid mistake. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. “We’ll clean up everything tidy,” said Capes. “You remind me of a little blue stone I had once.
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