’ He believes that she denies it simply because owing to my marriage with Sir John, whom they call the ‘Puritan Knight,’ she wants to keep her identity secret. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. The rogue took everything we had. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it.
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