He will be sorry when he knows who I am,’ decided Melusine with satisfaction. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality. He had not had time to aim the pistol. “He’s got almost to like it. “But I have no troubles. He seemed to have expected them. “NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket.
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