Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. ‘It is that he needed me for his lie, no?’ Melusine said, striving to control the quiver in her voice. They were bathing in the stream. You’re a good friend.
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