Her thoughts were deflected from Vivie Warren by the peculiar behavior of a middle-aged gentleman in Piccadilly. She still kicked herself for it. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. The child was still safe. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. I’m sorry I ruined dinner. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them.
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