. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. “Call me Cathy, John. Well might she do so, Gerald thought in irritation. ‘I should never have told you. The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire. He was amused. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him. She was not Madame Melusine Valade. "Don't think to deceive me by your false pretences.
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