‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. Charley Pevenill was our host. ‘That,’ he said stonily, ‘is yet another point over which we fell out. And in this fact lay his danger.
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