The woman shrugged her shoulders. ’ Before she could object, Melusine found herself hustled back into the house and dragged willy-nilly towards the library door, where Jack called softly. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. Of course, it was ridiculous, this inclination to assist the fugitive, based as it was upon an intangible university idea. ‘Not yet, madame. ‘You were his daughter.
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