“Don’t you get it, Lucy? I’ve always thought he was an idiot. Ruth loved him. ‘Melusine was making herself mistress of them when we met. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. Of course. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess.
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