Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. Even unbelieving biological demonstrators must respect decorum; and besides, you see—you were a student. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them.
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