Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. 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. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. He was by no means certain that she would not in fact attempt to blow off his head as she had threatened. ’ ‘Then it is good that you do not ask me,’ Melusine snapped, and flouncing away from him, went to sit in the large chair behind the desk at the far end of the room. He envied her a little. .
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