” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. ’ Melusine shifted her shoulders. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. It was not your fault you failed. ’ To be sure there was a way.
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