‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. ’ ‘And do not say you made a mull. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. ‘It must have been so, Melusine, or I wouldn’t have kissed you.
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