Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. ‘Now then, my girl, why the long face?’ Melusine had no hesitation in placing her trouble before her old nurse, for it was Martha who had made her aware of her true history. ‘You see, I had another reason for visiting your grandfather. Drink for him had a queer phase. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. Wild's orders. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations.
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