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She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. ’ He smiled down at her. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.

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