But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. She looked at him gravely and squinted. To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. “Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. He added, ‘Also others, but I don’t recall them. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. Later that night, after she had cleaned herself and changed her clothes, he returned.
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