I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. She is curiously altered in many ways. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease. All that was needed to complete the simile was that the girl should burst into song. ‘Still more would I be so if he had come himself to tell me this.
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