” “Delusion!” he muttered, glaring at her. . “Home, of course,” she answered. Only an undermaid I was then. ’ ‘Hélas, poor you,’ Melusine rejoined sarcastically. Think, ma’am. She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. "Don't fire," cried the latter. Thank goodness you’ll understand. But he only went home again to Paddington. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat.
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