“My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. Gather he found stuff belonging to the real Valade, and the vicomte, as well as your own letter. She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. Let me have more light, that I may behold him. 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. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand.
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