She helped Jack to sit down, and dragged the jacket off him, lifting his shirt to expose the gash that had sliced across his side. “Like a stab. F. Seems as she don’t trust soldiers easy. May I ask the nature of your interest in her?” He hesitated. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. Melusine’s eyes blazed into his. That Frenchie, that’s who she is. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. “Don’t know me, eh? I like that. ‘And it is perhaps not so necessary that I do so, because Joan has told me of another who may like to say I am the daughter of Mary Remenham.
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