Nevertheless, she was still fighting. Miss Annabel is her sister. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Love is one thing and friendship quite another. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. " "Still, you forgot something. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. " The stranger smiled incredulously. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. How Jack Sheppard broke out of the Cage at Willesden. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile.
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