"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. They were the three most beautiful women I had ever seen. I went off to round up his wife. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. In vain Wood protested his innocence. ‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her.
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