stare. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. There was absolute quiet. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. ‘You are really not helping matters, my friend. The biological laboratory had an atmosphere that was all its own. “What was that?” she asked sharply. And so —’ ‘And so she was able to become my—’ Melusine did not say it, for wet-nurse no longer seemed appropriate. She didn’t realize she was until one day she has horrible cramps and she screams for me while she is on the toilet, and then she screams for her mother.
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