Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. ‘Certainly you are imbecile. “Don’t!” she begged. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. Did I not say so, Hilary?’ Melusine’s glance shot across to the newcomer, and found a petite blonde standing there, very fashionably attired in a velvet mantel over an apple-green robe, the furred hood framing a face alive with mischief. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief.
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