Melusine got to her feet and, tucking her shoulder under his arm on the uninjured side, put her arm about him to hold his waist, and thus contrived to take most of his weight. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. “Where are they?” She looked around. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. A rock gave way to deep water. But he wrote on. He was keen to get to work, but the inspiration would not come. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object.
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