I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me. . ’ He took the thing from Melusine’s listless grasp and went on, ‘Now then, what’s all this here argy-bargy with Pottiswick?’ Melusine opened her eyes and straightened up. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. Not at all. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home.
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