Sheppard staggered forward. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. He'll be here two or three days. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. They took their places at a distant table. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. You’ll need that. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing.
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