There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. I can decide for myself. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. She was amazed that at over sixhundred years old that she could miss her parents so bitterly. Mr. ‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol.
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