. I don’t conceal it. " Neither man spoke. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. Now he lay there, a doubled-up mass, with ugly distorted features, and a dark wet stain dripping slowly on to the carpet. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. What do you mean by it, eh?’ ‘But I did not send it to you,’ Melusine rejoined instantly. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen.
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