She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. For five minutes he has been trying to think of something to say. In one grave, mind. It will be a little lonely sometimes,” she said, looking around at them, “and I shall miss you all, but it is the fairest for myself —and I think for you. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. If that's true, she's not long for this world.
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