The young lady with frizzled hair, whom Brendon had pointed out to her as Miss Ellicot, leaned forward from her hostess’s side. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. Ann Veronica stared at his foolish, propitiatory smile, his hungry gaze, through one moment of amazement, then stepped aside and went on her way with a quickened step. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world.
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