She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. Anyone would be intrigued. ‘And why have you not arrested him? Do not tell me you have allowed him to escape you.
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