To her satisfaction, the captain reddened a trifle. But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. How did you meet him?’ ‘He was wounded and came to the convent for sanctuary,’ Melusine told him, stung by his criticism into revealing more than she had intended. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. She has no proof—yet.
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