Anna was not “Alcide” of the “Ambassador’s,” whose subtly demure smile and piquant glances had called him to her side from the moment of their first meeting. “But your sister,” he said. ’ Melusine’s eyes flashed. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. Simply. We'll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis. Visiting? Dressed for it, certainly. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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