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’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. ‘I should have thought it was obvious. I am guilty practically of the impertinence of coming to ask you whether I misunderstood your sister. And the woman who showed this room was tall, with an understanding eye and the quiet manner of the well-trained servant. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. " The little girl's countenance fell. I know in Paris you pinched and scraped that your sister might have the dresses and entertainments she desired. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten.
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