At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. Her pat answer to all inquiries was, “I let my sister Shari make me over,” while she kept from staring at her own reflection in the shiny shoes past her bare knees. And Ramage too—about Ramage there would always be that air of avidity, that air of knowledge and inquiry, the mixture of things in his talk that were rather good with things that were rather poor. He returned the locket without comment. Ramage,” she said, clinging to her one point, “I want to get out of this horrible little room.
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