Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. At first Spurlock tasted coconut in his eggs, in what meat he ate; it permeated everything, taste and smell. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not. ‘Or perhaps to marry the soi-disant cousin that Emile portrays?’ That silenced Martha, for the Mother Abbess had sent her off with Melusine to England not only for the sake of the girl herself, but to save at least one of her nuns from the growing wrath of the populace of France.
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