8. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air. I was rude and stupid. “You silly wimmin,” he said over and over again throughout the hearing, plucking at his blotting-pad with busy hands. As a man, Sebastian had always held enough power to live in luxury. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. He kissed her again. ‘She knows what she’s up against. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend.
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