“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. You seem altogether altered, too. He came to her and stood before her, waiting, the morning light dazzling his eyes. What does it matter? It is here, and it is here to stay. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth. Frankly, it is the funniest thing which has ever happened to me in my life. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. Then they rode off at speed.
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