’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again. Not a moment is to be lost. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. She thought about just asking him to take 116 her to his place and get it over with, but she reconsidered and decided to attempt to get to know him better. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled.
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