“The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. “Rubbish!” he answered. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. Following him, and acting out of instinct rather than intent, Melusine took a firm grasp of the gilt frame with both hands, lifted it high in the air and, with a shrieking curse, brought it down hard. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman.
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