’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. Ramage came for her at her lodgings, and she met him graciously and kindly as a queen who knows she must needs give sorrow to a faithful liege. Teenagers buzzed about her newly discovered talent for the violin in the same sentences as they gossiped about her torrid police scandal and a lost mother who remained in the deep shadows of murder mystery. He had offered to escort the young lady to England where she might seek refuge with her relations there, and proposed that the maid Yolande might serve Miss Charvill. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. “Annabel! Why, what on earth have you been doing to yourself, child?” she exclaimed. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business.
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