Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. I did not reckon upon—him. It brought no coconut. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. It might as well be Melusine herself. He rose deliberately to his feet and confronted them.
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