Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Lucy stood in front of the piano. To his intense satisfaction, Melusine bit her lip on a tremor. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. ‘You and Jarvis Remenham both, yes. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. "I am, Charcoal.
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