‘Gérard will think that I have gone back to London. ’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question. He certainly bore inspection. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue.
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