‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. Following him, and acting out of instinct rather than intent, Melusine took a firm grasp of the gilt frame with both hands, lifted it high in the air and, with a shrieking curse, brought it down hard. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. In others, she acts with the speed and surety of the loosed arrow.
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