She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. It was not for a week or a month. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. ‘Parbleu, you are deaf perhaps? It is seen that you are very old, certainly. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present. “I guess I’m not the only one who wonders about your past. “I have never forgotten.
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