‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing. . . ” She picked at her sandwich idly. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. Still, I am curious. But escape to where? She thought of the ships that sailed from the peninsulas to hot deserts where spices were traded. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. . The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage.
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