He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. ‘Why did he make me French, Marthe? Why did he give me this name of Melusine, and say I am born of Suzanne Valade?’ Martha looked at her, but her lips remained firmly closed. She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. ’ She was too distressed to bear this. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said.
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