That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. “I expected you this morning,” he said. ‘Do not move, messieurs, or I shall be compelled to blow off your head. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. Now do you see?’ Melusine frowned. ’ ‘Undoubtedly,’ Gerald agreed. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. You know that, and I know that, though we might be put to it to find a reason why.
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