“Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. “You’re burning up. I never could. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. “At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica.
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