‘Didn’t mean it, love. ‘That I do not yet know. She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. I want you to understand clearly that I was indebted to the man in many small ways. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. “Eight, Cavendish Square. A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of France.
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