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Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. The marriage lines that confirmed a union between the said André Valade and Mademoiselle Melusine Charvill touched the old scars and he gave vent to a muttered expletive. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. . Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. ’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple. Her English was halting. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds.
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