It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. ‘Does Charvill know that this Melusine of yours is here?’ The question distracted Gerald. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. . She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr.
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