“He is not—I don’t like him. "If any one's to blame, it's me. ’ Melusine gasped. But one must disguise oneself. ” “No, mine. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy.
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