She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. ’ He reddened a little, and shuffled his feet. Instead, her husband was probably wise. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. ToC Mrs. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. Rousing himself, he went to the door. .
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