As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. He reached over and took her hand. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other. ‘You mean that there is a rival Melusine to the one he has heard about? He does not. .
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