’ Roding looked struck. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. Melusine ran to catch at his arm. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature.
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