He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘Jacques, are you dead? Jacques, do you hear me?’ Melusine put her cheek to his lips, and felt the faint warmth of his breath. Sheppard, attend to what I'm about to say to you. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. Killed is too kind a word. ’ ‘You were quite as bad to me as I was to you,’ Gerald protested mildly, sitting down beside her.
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