He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. “Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. ’ ‘What?’ Hilary glanced from Gerald to Melusine, and coloured up. It took my breath away. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. McClintock does it; and he knows why. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. “How is that carmine working?” he asked, with a forced interest. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man.
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