They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. According to Lucilla, this comtesse had constituted herself something of a social leader in the rapidly growing assemblage of refugees, and would undoubtedly be ready to introduce an eligible bachelor appropriately. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood. The thing is, Miss Charvill —’ ‘He told you my name?’ cut in Melusine, surprised. She had heard the trader utter it many times.
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