Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. Warm reality was now so near her she could hear it beating in her ears. The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. . It remains a bizarre idea to me that Lucy Alberti could ever become so detailed or so real, but I’m certainly glad to have made her acquaintance. You keep on coming truer, after you have seemed to come altogether true. Morality tells you what is right, and adventure moves you.
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