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" Mechanically raising the potion to her lips, the poor creature swallowed it without hesitation. ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. ’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. “Dare!” she said. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes.
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