“A lady, Dunster. ’ ‘Eh?’ Almost Melusine betrayed herself at his startled look. However, not a moment is to be lost. On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. It was not for a week or a month.
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