“No. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. ’ ‘Parbleu,’ burst from Melusine indignantly. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure. I hate this part of the world. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially.
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