’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the centre of the room, but uttered in a low tone, full of suppressed anxiety, ‘How can he know? How can he know?’ ‘You mean how can he know that this is your house?’ Melusine looked up at him, distress in her eyes. She was still good at following orders. He had diverged only a little from the truth when he said that his chief interest in life was women. ’ Melusine shrugged. Good riddance to bad rubbish. That would be an unkind twist of fate. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. We'll turn the tables upon 'em yet.
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