You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not. ‘Eh bien?’ ‘You are perfectly right, Melusine. Who is the other?” “What other?” Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. There’s no logic in these things. Why, that boy could hide for thirty years—without the girl.
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