. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. This island was the one haven he had; he might be forced to remain here for several years—until the Hand had forgotten him. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. She had denied it with vigor, and here she was! She did not so much exhaust this general question as pass from it to her insoluble individual problem again: “What am I to do?” She wanted first of all to fling the forty pounds back into Ramage’s face. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead.
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