” He extended his hand. ” Lucy yanked him into the hidden door to Room 109, a door to the backstage that looked like the entrance to a broom closet. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. He looked at it eagerly, but made no movement to take it. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. ” She said quietly. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. They walked back to 118 hand in hand. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown. ’ ‘I do not think so,’ Melusine agreed, still puzzled. She went down, flushed and light-hearted, to the Widgetts’ after lunch to make some final arrangements and then, as soon as her aunt had retired to lie down for her usual digestive hour, took the risk of the servants having the enterprise to report her proceedings and carried her bag and hold-all to the garden gate, whence Teddy, in a state of ecstatic service, bore them to the railway station. Melusine was unable to repulse him—even had she tried.
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