As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. “Act three. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. He had not remembered her as looking so small. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty.
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