"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. A murmur ran through the assemblage, by several of whom Jack was recognised. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. I know who she is, and I know that she has been cheated somehow by the people calling themselves Valade. At the opening of the van doors and the emergence into the fresh air Ann Veronica’s doubt and depression gave place to the wildest exhilaration. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. What a treat to see all the old tabbies taken at fault for once!’ ‘You are a dreadful child,’ scolded Mrs Sindlesham, with which Melusine could not but agree, despite the dimple rioting in her great-aunt’s cheek. Let me put the main question to you now that I could not put the other afternoon.
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