Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. She addressed her letters, meditated on them for a time, and then took them out and posted them. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice. There would be no mercy in this man. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. " Then he became merciful. She tried not to blush. These were the Master's body-guard. Sheppard.
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