” “I have been abroad,” he said. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. A cold shiver came over her. Á bientot—Melusine.
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