’ Amazed, Melusine stared at him. A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. It was hard to meet that gaze. "Your ladyship has never been well since you married Sir Cecil," rejoined Mrs. —Providence, I mean—HAS arranged it so that men will keep you, more or less. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books.
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