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And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. ” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. ‘I am fascinated.
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