A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. Martha was quite right. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. I am guilty practically of the impertinence of coming to ask you whether I misunderstood your sister. “Where?” “To that ball. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. He built her the most beautiful castle 242 in the world in the desert, carving fountains where real water ran and gardens in a place where no plant had ever bloomed. The thing is, Miss Charvill —’ ‘He told you my name?’ cut in Melusine, surprised. ‘I doubt very much whether they are yours at all. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. Stanley, and was so evidently pleased that Ann Veronica’s heart smote her.
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