‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. Whenever Ah Cum (whose normal stride was sufficient to keep him at the side of her chair) pointed out something of interest, she had to strain the cords in her neck to focus her glance upon the object. When she spoke, her lips twitched. Melusine ran to catch at his arm. Only I’m so incensed with that crazy fool Gerald that—oh, well, never mind. "Where?" she cried. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp.
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