That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Her heartbeat quickened. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. "Sir Rowland, I salute you as your nephew. ‘You didn’t understand it any better than I. Both advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features of Rowland. ‘Tell me the truth, Melusine.
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