His literary instincts began to stir. ‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight. ’ ‘Because you are a pig!’ retorted Melusine hotly. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed.
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