His hand flew across the paper. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. I knew it was in vain to cry 'murder!' in the Mint, so I had recourse to stratagem. ’ ‘Marry you!’ He shot off the desk, such horror in his face that Melusine felt a little irritated. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. And an Englishman, which is my right of birth. . She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. I want him as my friend. Better come another morning. .
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