Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. Soon I shall make my début, that it will be known that I am the real Melusine Charvill, and then I shall not require the services any longer of this imbecile of a Gérard. “I have never seen him in my life,” she said to the official. Won’t you let me—can’t I be of any assistance?” He was obviously in earnest. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance.
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