‘Melusine was making herself mistress of them when we met. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. ‘Ask him. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you.
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