She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. No need to do such things. “Don’t come nearer!” she said. Now I ain’t saying as how that there Pottiswick—’ ‘How you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently. Mike was drinking a cup of black coffee. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her.
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