As in a dream, Melusine saw her faithful footman struck, his headlong progress checked. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. “It’s something that bothers me. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. He grasped Lucilla’s elbow. 165 “Uh, my parents are going skiing in Colorado after New Year’s. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd.
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