"I am very happy to be of service to you. "And will swear to it?" "I will. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. ’ Gosse smiled and Melusine read triumph there. She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. " "Meaning that I don't belong anywhere, in heaven or on earth?" "Meaning that you must cut off the wing or grow another to mate it.
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