” She side-stepped into his living room from behind a square white column. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. ’ ‘But if I am with you, as André Valade, as your husband, an émigré—’ ‘Pah!’ Melusine spat. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him.
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