To be no longer with Martha was strange. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Wood with the circumstances, and putting him upon his guard against the possibility of an attack. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. “I don’t see at all how you can be managing,” said Miss Stanley, and Ann Veronica hastened to reply, “I do on very little. And Gerald— Melusine swallowed on an unaccountable lump in her throat. And I get myself dirty. He dropped the key on the counterpane.
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