“You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. "I shall kill her if I stay longer," muttered her son, completely terrified.
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