She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade. ” The brutality of his first astonishment was evaporating. But the world didn’t do that. She crooked her finger. “Why, among other things, did I put my knuckles in his neck—deliberately to hurt him?” She tried to sound the humorous note. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. I can't run in these heavy fetters.
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