Gracious, there’s the gong. ‘Because he knows you for an imposter,’ Melusine flashed. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. “She was the High Priestess who turned me in Greece, before Rome. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon.
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