’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall. But Enschede took them as they came, without question. And he could not return this love. You jumped, and I think that you left me. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time.
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