Kneebone nodded. The streets were full of colour. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. . Chapter Four Two days later, it was quite another Melusine who confronted a young lad on a sunny morning, at variance with her bleak mood. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself.
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