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’ ‘No, for that would have had to be in Melusine’s possession to start with. When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. All this was exciting and entertaining. Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. E. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered.
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