The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. Only the night before, in the dining room of the Hong-Kong Hotel, she had watched him empty glass after glass of whisky, and shudder and shudder. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. ‘Me, I have a name. ’ Melusine might have responded that she had not asked him, but she was too intent on her mission.
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