’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye. Fretting and fidgeting, he had, after an hour or so, turned to McClintock. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. Perhaps the day of her recompense was at hand. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. “I am under police surveillance,” she said. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. She won’t be a problem from now on. She played “Happy Birthday” for John, after which they plied her with a dozen requests.
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