” “But, my dear Peter!” said Miss Stanley. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. ’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. "Mercy on us! what have I said!" cried the attendant, greatly alarmed by the agitation of her mistress; "do sit down, your ladyship, while I run for the ratifia and rosa solis. " There was no danger in admitting this fact.
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