“Bad hemorrhage,” he said. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. “Well, no,” she answered. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. A few minutes later Sir John left the room. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. He was her only brother, and she his favourite sister. I want to give you time to think.
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