It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. ’ Colour suffused the man’s face. She directed the orchestra to tune again. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers.
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