“I’m d——d if I understand this,” he said thoughtfully. A cool gray light illuminated small portions of the stone floor. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. “Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. Voilà tout, as Melusine herself would say. Perhaps I ate something spoiled for breakfast. (“Good job. They will find me dead, yes.
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