Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. The baby did not strike at Sebastian. But his life, ruled by chance and the fight to survive had appealed strongly to Melusine’s rebellious spirit. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. You know as well as I do that it was accident. It is you who took my name, not I yours.
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