It was a capital diversion; and as usual the Leatherneck bested the Britisher, in seven rounds. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. When you don’t have any fingers left, I take a toe. .
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