Melusine recognised the burly form of Captain Roding’s sergeant. “I think she would,” she decided. Suddenly she understood. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. She was feeling extraordinarily well that night, so that the sense of her body was a deep delight, a realization of a gentle warmth and strength and elastic firmness. . He had been hard since they had taken their clothes off. The pistol, it was not loaded.
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