“I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. She were that miserable. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’ ‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently. Ann Veronica glanced at the mirror to discover a flushed and dishevelled disorder. They WERE weird.
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