She rapped on Michelle’s door loudly. Mrs. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. And Pottiswick, of course. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. Suddenly he came to a stop, his mouth agape. And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. Springing to his feet in an ecstasy of terror, he stumbled, and had well nigh realized his worst apprehensions. “No, it was simple.
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