‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. But Darrell averted his head. Charvill’s fury was burning out. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. The less she lived, in fact, the better. I saw the metal box a hundred times, but I never thought of opening it until the day I fled. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields.
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