A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. " "He is alive," replied Jack, "I have seen him, and might have conversed with him if I had chosen. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door.
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