It will hold aloof, a little undecided whether to pelt or not—” “That depends whether we carry ourselves as though we expected pelting,” said Ann Veronica. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. ’ A multitude of changes flitted across Melusine’s features as she stood there for a space, unusually silent. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. And I need not tell you that her hotel bill is running on the same as yours. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. But you, Ferringhall, our pattern, an erstwhile Sheriff of London, a county magistrate, a prospective politician, a sober and an upright man, one who, had he aspired to it, might even have filled the glorious position of Lord Mayor— James, a whisky and Apollinaris at once. In vain Wood protested his innocence.
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