” Ramage reflected. ” John said to Lucy. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. She heard their feet and muffled voices. You disgust me. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face.
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