Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate. She pulled down her veil and made her way to the door. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative.
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