Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. What do you mean by it, eh?’ ‘But I did not send it to you,’ Melusine rejoined instantly. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. ‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. I was orphaned a long time ago. He had only been prevented, indeed, by a fear of Mrs.
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