How did you meet him?’ ‘He was wounded and came to the convent for sanctuary,’ Melusine told him, stung by his criticism into revealing more than she had intended. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it.
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