They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. ‘You said it. Sensitive, aren’t they?” She chuckled. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. “There is no remedy, girls,” she began, breathlessly, “except the Vote. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another.
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