‘Melusine was making herself mistress of them when we met. B. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. ’ ‘Lucilla,’ gasped Hilary, his cheeks reddening with wrath. ‘To take a baby all the way to France without a wet-nurse. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said.
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