She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. He nodded silently, too full for words. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. ’ Melusine’s heart leapt, raced for a moment, and suddenly dropped again. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly.
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