“Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions. Even then it sent Spurlock spinning backward, to crash against the wall. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters.
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