Many little things had contributed to that decision. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. The perfume was the only one she ever used. The kindly American consul-general had himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exchanged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly advised her. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. Fascination. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. G'night, kids.
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