So that Ann Veronica was not able to get the expert advice she certainly needed upon her spiritual state. Anna was singing as she used to sing. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. I go back about once a year. And so —’ ‘And so she was able to become my—’ Melusine did not say it, for wet-nurse no longer seemed appropriate. I might have told you the truth.
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