Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. ‘And just who is Leonardo?’ ‘How in God’s name should I know?’ demanded Roding irascibly. ’ Both hands about the butt of her unwieldy pistol, Melusine glared at him. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll.
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