“You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. He knew not how to act, urged as he was in two directions. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. She had always wondered when they would start being able to trace her kills, with their expanding systems of criminal databases and computers, and now it was starting to happen. Melusine got to her feet and, tucking her shoulder under his arm on the uninjured side, put her arm about him to hold his waist, and thus contrived to take most of his weight. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought.
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