‘Here were you patiently waiting, without uttering one word of complaint the entire time, which of course you never do, being yourself a female altogether of a disposition extremely sweet and charming without the least vestige of a temper—’ ‘Gérard,’ Melusine uttered on a warning note, desperately trying to control the quiver at her lip. He picked up the remote and sat himself to her right. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words.
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