“Just forget it, Lucy! Keep your secrets to yourself!” He stomped out, slamming the heavily paneled oak door. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You should have gone to Charvill. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’ ‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. Mere formality. Melusine glanced at the walls as she sped down the four flights of stairs, and noted with relief that some paintings remained. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!” Annabel looked around her nervously.
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