Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. ’ Joy rose in Melusine’s bosom. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. Miching Mallecho. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then.
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