Thank him, not me, man. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. However, I'd rather have a blow from the daughter than the mother.
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