’ Melusine stared. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon. And here she was—in a mess because it had been impossible for her to avoid leaning upon another man. Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. They were Jonathan Wild and Quilt Arnold. She was nestled under his bedspread. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. “I have always,” she admitted calmly, “taken a certain amount of interest in Annabel’s future. I am always reinventing myself with new styles. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. In Old Palace Yard everybody ran. ” “My message is urgent,” he said firmly. ’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury.
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