And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. Once before—but that had been different. It was after all a momentary affair. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. He laughed once or twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. His initial nervousness had already abated, and it took some valour to allow himself to become embroiled in Melusine’s crazy schemes. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left.
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