What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. My wife—killed me. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. ” He would follow with a long discourse on biology, uninvited. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot.
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