. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. ‘Deaf? Deaf? I’ll have you know, miss—’ ‘Do not have me know anything,’ interrupted Melusine crossly, and digging into her habit, produced the fateful dagger that had cut Gerald’s hand. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. ‘He don’t mean you no harm. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued.
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