A sudden knock at the door startled her. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. Wood entered the room, followed by Thames. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. ‘A thing Marthe told me of,’ Melusine answered, her attention on the garments that were still lying higgledy-piggledy, just as she had left them.
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