‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. “There is something which I must say to you. Michelle moaned and Lucy, unable to help herself, stroked her hair. “MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London. ‘I’m determined to find out all about you, mademoiselle.
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