It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. Why, there was drama in the very dress she wore! There was drama in the unusual beauty of her, hidden away all these years on a forgotten isle! "You've been lonely, too.
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