Her aunt went off at a tangent. Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. Melusine whirled. Here it is. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. " "At any rate, I won, for he went away. ” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat.
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