And not on Melusine’s account, but to see Prudence, who had no use for a cavalier. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time. It is just how things happen to be. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland.
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