‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible. ’ ‘Very good, ma’am. There you are, the best client’s chair. ” 281 282 About the Author Kimberly Steele grew up in a suburb of Chicago, Illinois and currently resides in Naperville, Illinois. By rights I ought to have arrested her days ago. She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning.
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