She spoke slowly. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. Mischief bubbled up in her. I’m glad 237 you came over. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. I was extremely subtle—in fact, as devious as Melusine. Nobody could possibly find him now. “I dare not,” she answered. Anna sat quite still for a moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. “Lady Mackinnor,” she said, “I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. Her brother Roddy, who was in the motor line, came to expostulate; her sister Alice wrote. ’ ‘Ah, that was an affair altogether different,’ she explained and fluttered her long lashes at him.
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