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‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. ’ ‘I do not think so,’ Melusine agreed, still puzzled. The evenings were dulcet and soft. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. She was enchanted by the beauty of the other girls, who were magically transformed into fairies and elves by makeup into seemingly unfamiliar yet glamorous new people. How will I get an Englishman to wed me if they know that I behave not at all comme il faut?’ ‘Perhaps the Englishman in question will not care,’ suggested Prudence, with a twinkle in her eye for which Melusine was quite unable to account. Drink for him had a queer phase.
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