Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. ’ Melusine might have responded that she had not asked him, but she was too intent on her mission. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear.
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