She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. ‘They cannot help it. They vanished through the doorway. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. Ruth did not consider it necessary, however, to add that she had not notified this aunt of her coming, that she did not know whether the aunt still resided in Hartford or was underground. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life.
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