But it was of vital importance to Melusine, and Gerald felt he must pursue it. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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