82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. When she tried to speak she found it difficult. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. It’s not you—not a bit. ” He stated, trying to maintain his calm.
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