Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. She winced as he thrust the fact at her, was about to answer, and checked herself. Gerald smiled and crooked his elbow. He had no use for Ann Veronica; he had never had a use for her since she had been too old to sit upon his knee. She wanted him, she needed sex, but the two ideas had not formed an equation where a concrete result could be deduced. Ever hear of the djinn in the bottle? Like enough. ’ Chapter Nine As she devoured the simple meal of bread and cheese, and several slices of cold roast beef, the whole washed down with a poor sort of coffee, Melusine listened with avid interest to the details of her mother’s life as revealed by the exclamatory conversation of Joan Ibstock.
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