“I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. . Earles thinks I am a little mad, and between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here.
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