Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. ‘You’re only making things worse, you little idiot. John laughed even harder, his eyes misting over. ‘Do you at least know how he came to be in a position to cheat Miss Charvill, and to pass off his wife in her place?’ ‘In her place?’ There was no mistaking the boy’s ignorance of this part of the tale. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic.
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