She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. Like a trollop in heat. "Good-bye, Mac. " The spinster's face actually became warm. ’ ‘Hélas, poor you,’ Melusine rejoined sarcastically.
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