’ Before she could object, Melusine found herself hustled back into the house and dragged willy-nilly towards the library door, where Jack called softly. F. ‘Jacques, do not go!’ Jack gazed steadfastly at the floor. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. " The tone was neutral. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so. Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. Ennison, or any other young man. "Ruth?" he called. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. All at once it came to him what a fool he was to worry over this phase which was wholly suppositional.
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