In a flash, Melusine had jumped forward and clamped it to the floor with one booted foot. “Quite alone, sir. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. ‘Why not a French flag?’ ‘Because I don’t believe that fool Pottiswick could tell French from Arabic, even if he heard it as he says he did—which I take leave to doubt. But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. “My dear,” the letter ran, “I have to tell you that your sister Gwen has offended your father very much.
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