Jests are not for seasons like this. Please sit down, Miss —dear me, I haven’t asked you your name yet. I’ve made up my mind. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ’ ‘That’s easy. I thought that he was dead. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose.
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