‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. A wedding procession turned the corner. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. ‘Damn you, what’s the matter with you?’ he snapped in frustration. I hope you will always remember——” Annabel held out her hands with a little cry of protest.
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