He drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Wood, in indignant surprise. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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