"Oh, Heavens!" cried Mrs. ’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye. Acne sprayed her cheeks in a fine red spatter where it intermingled with brown freckles. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. His client’s story is safe with him. Deny me, if you please. Perhaps in the beginning the women made fools of themselves over him. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. Maggot. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone.
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