If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. ‘Got you!’ ‘You!’ Stunned, Melusine moved quickly away from the tell-tale bookshelf.
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