” “Is my sister’s Christian name, then, of so much importance to you?” she asked with a faint smile. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. Jests are not for seasons like this. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard.
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