Like a petulant child he snapped. Wood. ‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Glancing swiftly towards the doorway, Gerald saw his friend’s disbelieving face and burst out, speaking over the top of Melusine as she made another grab for the little square of linen. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. And, if you hear any odd noise in the parlour, don't mind it. “Those were good.
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