And she’s pluck to the backbone. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention.
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