‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. She could not part with dignity. ‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. Sir John once more looked around him. This became very interesting. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something. I have forgot all about the sword until the capitaine has come. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved.
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