“I will not ask you to explain further. . ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. “Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. ” “And I,” Brendon said, humbly, “although I am afraid there is no chance for me, my errand was the same. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. But I'll never part with your irons.
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