She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. She was honest again. “It is very doubtful,” he said. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. Sir Rowland is one of us," he added, winking at his companions, "and so was his brother-in-law, Sir Cecil Trafford. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon.
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