Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. Intelligence was the currency in Athens, and anyone who displayed great knowledge ascended to the top, no matter what his former circumstances. 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. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. “Aren’t we all just odds and ends of humanity —the left-overs, you know. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. ‘I know, Melusine. Both of them would be committing novel and unforgettable acts. ’ ‘That I do not doubt,’ Gerald muttered drily, but added in a tone of intense satisfaction, ‘Then this husband is still in France? Excellent.
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