Anna was no favourite at No. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it. “All right, Dunster,” he said. As he looked in this direction, Wild gave him a significant wink, the meaning of which he was not slow to comprehend. ‘Who in the name of heaven is this Leonardo? And why did he kiss you?’ ‘He was an Italian soldier, and he wanted to kiss me,’ Melusine said, goaded. What had she so nearly said? She had almost spoken a name—and quickly withdrawn it.
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