She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. ‘You cannot mean General Charvill?’ ‘That old martinet?’ exclaimed Roding. Wood, you shan't lord it over me, I can promise you. The burden of decision had been transferred. Does that boy live in some sort of personal cave? Like, I think he might even be thinking about asking you out again! That is what I think. I must!” She threw open the door and pointed to it.
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