‘You the fellow Gerald spoke to?’ Kimble flushed beetroot, and Melusine had a flash of insight. “I am a fool,” he said. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. “It is very nice of you to come, but I do not think for the present, at any rate, I could give him any other answer. ‘That is true,’ Melusine conceded. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well. Eating him while he was at the end of a heroin binge left her sleepy and dazed. The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. Stanley considered. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob.
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