Suddenly she felt her wrist grasped by a strong hand. . “So should you. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair. This unexpected interpolation might spoil the efficacy of all that had gone before. “Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know. Least of all myself.
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