Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. The thing is, Miss Charvill —’ ‘He told you my name?’ cut in Melusine, surprised. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears.
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