On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. All this was exciting and entertaining. Have we not received Lady Bicknacre just this morning? Not to mention the Comtesse de St Erme. Her eyes were wide and bright. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again.
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