Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. Not wisely but too well. Then Melusine is in truth your granddaughter. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. But God did not put you next door. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. She began to want to lay her head down on his chest but absolutely denied herself.
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