Pure romantic nonsense on her part. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. ‘I suppose this is the cavalier you had with you when you—er—attended the ball the other night?’ ‘Jacques is very useful to me,’ Melusine confirmed, bestowing that same radiant smile on the young man, whose features were instantly suffused with scarlet. Don’t stand gawping, man. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. ” “What’s our lot?” asked her sister. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides. Their duty was to see who came in, or went out; to lock up, and open the different wards; to fetter such prisoners as were ordered to be placed in irons; to distribute the allowances of provision; and to maintain some show of decorum; for which latter purpose they were allowed to carry whips and truncheons. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague.
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