At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. ‘I do not steal,’ declared the lady hotly. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. ’ Melusine heard a note of triumph in his voice and turned, a questioning look in her face. She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof.
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