And Pottiswick, of course. . She is extremely lovely, but for her to have borne the name of the Blessed Virgin would have been nothing short of sacrilege. Moving to the shuttered window, Melusine dragged the heavy drapes back. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. But there was a face pressed to the glass. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head.
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