‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss. Thank you for the books. I came to London to look for you, and somehow the figure I saw in my dreams had got mixed up with you. But—he was cleverer than any of you. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Brendon,” he said, “may I rob you of your guest just for the drive home? I have only a few hours in England, and Miss Pellissier is an old friend.
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