’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home. “Let me help you,” he begged. Sheila found out. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. She let him have it all, as it was, after all, for the last time. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors.
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