’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. As she sat the bride actually woke up, sat up, and looked frightfully around the room. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped. We'll come back for that by and by, and the dressing-gown. It’s time she knew. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it.
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