“Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. It began as a joke. ’ ‘I thought you were dead,’ Melusine confided. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. We all did that in our youth, when first we came upon a fine story; else we were worthless metal indeed. The tears were streaming down her face, her voice was thick with sobs. “I was frightened then,” she declared. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you.
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