She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. ’ About to hurry from the little parlour, Melusine remembered Mrs Ibstock. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. The girl nodded sagely. ” She nodded. Keep it! Keep it!” Part 6 They walked a long way that afternoon.
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