’ ‘Better than to live at the hands of a villainous blackmailer,’ Melusine threw at him. It’s 180 endearing. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. My foster mom works there as a second job. What do you mean by it, eh?’ ‘But I did not send it to you,’ Melusine rejoined instantly. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees.
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