No matter. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. You’re such a strange girl. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind.
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