Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. ’ ‘So would you run away,’ she uttered impulsively. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. Jack turned away with an aching heart. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. Too much, perhaps.
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