Well, I don’t think that’s fair. ’ ‘You say—what?’ gasped Melusine. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. . Her father’s ideas of expostulation were a little harsh and forcible, and over the claret-colored table-cloth and under the gas chandelier, with his hat and umbrella between them like the mace in Parliament, he and his daughter contrived to have a violent quarrel. ’ The old man simply stared at her.
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