’ ‘Melusine, sir,’ Gerald reminded the general, exchanging a frustrated glance with Mrs Sindlesham. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. Did you hear us through the archway, talking cookery?” They went up by the lift in silence. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes.
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