“Sure, but it’s not like you’re married, you know. Pah! Damned Frenchified—’ ‘If you say again,’ threatened Melusine, moving to meet him like a jungle cat poised for the kill, ‘this scorn of a thing French, monsieur le baron, I shall be compelled to give you this apoplexy of which she speaks, madame. Sheppard, meekly. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. "But your threats won't prevent my leaving the room when I please, and as I please.
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