Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. Where is your hat?’ ‘Parbleu, is this a way to rescue me?’ Melusine demanded, digging in her heels and wrenching her arm out of his hold. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. ‘You have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused.
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