‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. She pointed hither and yon, smiled and shook her head. ‘You seem to understand the gentry very well. Her father for fifteen years, and you now for the rest of her life! Tell her you're a thief. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness.
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