’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. Brendon was silent. A bowl of roses, just brought by Ann Veronica, adorned the communal dressing-table, and Ann Veronica was particularly trim in preparation for a call she was to make with her aunt later in the afternoon. " "No, Sir Rowland. "No. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. "His disguise was capital; but I detected it in a moment. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer.
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