He had to know the truth, Melusine. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor.
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