She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. " "Readily. John Sheppard. "There's his knock. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards. ‘No one is here, Melusine, except you and I. But they would not be denied. ‘Thought it was downright wicked to keep you ignorant of your proper background. It melted her heart. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days. ” “But your dinner!” she protested.
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