She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. ‘But that is excessively unkind of you, Melusine. I don’t think that the rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we’re obliged to be friends. It was really very jolly to talk to a man in this way—who saw the woman in her and did not treat her as a child. ‘Valade, if you don’t mind.
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