’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. ’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. He introduced her as his \"friend\" Lucy. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. I’m starving. "No, Sir Rowland," replied the attendant, "as you proposed to ride to Saint Albans to-night, I thought you might choose to see him yourself. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar.
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