Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. You’ll have to go back to Remenham House. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead. ’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. “You have been very kind to me,” she said. “To tell you the truth, it has seemed just lately as though we were becoming in some measure estranged. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. From your pocket there.
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