A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. Damn! I’ve splashed. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion.
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