She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. Too much, perhaps. She began to exercise those lures which were bred in her bone—the bones of all women. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. “No,” said Ann Veronica, “but I want to know. Melusine—the real Melusine—would never have made such a stupid mistake. Her neck was smeared with red and remorse flooded him. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture.
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