‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. She spoke slowly. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way. “She’s going to have some sort of meal with the Widgetts down the Avenue, and go up with them.
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