Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. It slid off flimsily. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. Especially when they wear cologne. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Melusine sighed with frustration.
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