"That's for Winifred," vociferated the Amazon, bringing the cudgel heavily upon his shoulder. ’ Gerald did not speak, but there was a look in his face that made Melusine glad she had at last had the courage to confide in him. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive.
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