’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. ’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury. Next moment, he had Melusine by the arm. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. \"I'll have to call and tell Cathy. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen. Indeed it was apparent, from the likeness between them, that they were nearly related.
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