’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. ’ Melusine fought down the raw emotion that threatened to overwhelm her and drew a steadying breath. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt. Blueskin answered by dashing his head violently against the flagged floor. Husband of mine, I think we have rather overrated the emotional capacity of those—those dears.
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