She backed away, amazed as the thing buzzed loudly in the center of the room. ‘What could either of us have done?’ To Gerald’s acute consternation, Melusine’s lip trembled suddenly, and her eyes filled. He died when I was. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. Impressionable, lonely, a deal beyond his analytical reach, the girl might let her sympathies go beyond those of the nurse. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily.
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