Pah! Damned Frenchified—’ ‘If you say again,’ threatened Melusine, moving to meet him like a jungle cat poised for the kill, ‘this scorn of a thing French, monsieur le baron, I shall be compelled to give you this apoplexy of which she speaks, madame. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. ‘Leonardo again,’ he growled. “I wonder why I am always hungry nowadays. Know that, don’t you?’ ‘Of course I know it,’ Lucy told him, and Melusine read the whisper in her mouth of those precious words, ‘I love you. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. ” She disengaged herself from him and went out of the room with a grave, preoccupied expression.
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