"You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. ” Chapter XXVI ANNABEL IS WARNED “You!” David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands. Melusine seized her chance. “I’ve heard some even more entertaining news from the Orchestra grapevine too. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. Spurlock stepped into the room. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. She turned there and beckoned.
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