His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. For the sort of love-making you think about. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. That is what marriage is to most young women: the ultimate escape from the family, from the unwritten laws that govern children.
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