“Mr. Go out there and head him off, will you? Tell him anything you like, but don’t let him in, and don’t tell him Melusine is here. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. From a man, who was standing beneath the shade of one these noble trees, information was obtained that the horsemen had ridden along the Harrow Road.
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