He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. She had gladly lowered her eyes as she had been instructed to in front of the fine ladies and lords, as she was more interested in their clothing and fripperies than their faces. He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. “I like you very much John. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. It’s a mismatch. ’ ‘I do not think so,’ Melusine agreed, still puzzled. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill.
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