. She told us that it was a disguise. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Drummond had made an abominable mistake. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. She had killed him. Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image. “Shut up, you little faggot. At least for one moment, it was. Melusine ran up the stairway after him, her point flailing to frighten him into allowing her access to the chapel.
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