“She has never 96 once contacted me. Before you have lived—” He became darkly prophetic. ‘But can you? You don’t know Melusine for Mary Remenham’s daughter, any more than I do. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad.
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