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He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. “But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. He will be some time in this comatose state. Just this? Parbleu, did he think this was enough? She did not wish to marry him—at least, not just because he was an Englishman. Melusine gave herself a little mental shake. It is no crime, none at all.
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