Dolby was portly and handsome. He filled his pipe slowly. Her pa was only the smithy. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter. Melusine did not pause, but reached down to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. He stopped short of a group of adolescent saplings and turned the ignition off.
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