Peste, she had forgot the sword. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. "That's a good story, lad. She was chic, distinguished, unusual. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. Melusine glanced towards the elderly dame and found that sharp gaze directed upon her.
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