Prudence twinkled at them, and reached out to pat Melusine’s hand. Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique. “Now you must go,” she said firmly. “What did it matter?” she cried. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist.
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