The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. He’s dead. ’ Melusine cursed Emile roundly, but raised a defiant head. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. She longed to enjoy human food as he did. ‘He was very kind to me. You can’t! I tell you frankly you may break off your engagement to me—I shall hold myself still engaged to you, yours just the same. Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart.
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