‘Tell me the truth, Melusine. ’ Still no response. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Now go. ” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. He could imagine it even if he could not feel it. “I shall not speak,” he said, “now or at any other time.
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