‘Melusine…Melusine. We both understood that. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. "How is the patient?" he asked. "This letter will vouch for me that a communication has taken place between your enemies. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play.
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