You may fall into the hands of your enemy. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney. Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Here one might live the life of golden days. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. Lucy looked about confusedly.
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