But Melusine’s own words had thrown an idea into her head. “I’ve got it. John eased off. It is in the lower cupboard. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. Throwing down the pencil, she snatched up a piece of India-rubber, and exclaiming,—"It isn't at all like him! it isn't half handsome enough!" was about to efface the sketch, when Thames darted into the room. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so.
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