A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. Then a roar of hisses. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. I think that I am a little disappointed in you.
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