“Your mother was a Gypsy. ’ Of which Melusine was only too well aware, for her stepmother had done nothing to save her from the convent. “Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. Chapter VIII “WHITE’S” Northwards, away from the inhospitality of West Kensington, rumbled the ancient four-wheel cab, laden with luggage and drawn by a wheezy old horse rapidly approaching its last days. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant.
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