He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. Suddenly Ah Cum laughed aloud. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. This way, Sir Rowland. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. Nor was he long in making it available. He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. This is clear over my head. McClintock did not exaggerate his ability to read faces.
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