He always followed by showering her with kisses, embracing her tightly as she squirmed and giggled. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms.
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