Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it. ‘I knew you would be furious. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally.
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