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“I had found her at last, and she shot me. After all, why need one look down. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it. That there gatekeeper would’ve called them out again. But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. She hastened past. The soil was identical, the climate; still, they would not bear the Olympian fruit, with its purple-lined jacket and its snow-white pulp. ’ Melusine could not regard this view with anything but scepticism. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious.
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