He could lose himself for hours at a time. “Nor am I now,” he answered. “Ugh!” she said. Melusine—the real Melusine—would never have made such a stupid mistake. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. ‘The fact of it is,’ I said, ‘I’m the new playwright, Thomas More. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them. ‘Of course she don’t understand,’ snapped Charvill irascibly. ‘Rather thought I’d have to disarm you when you heard of it.
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