’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop. "Is it poison?" she asked.
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