Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. Briefly, with a careless wave towards the couple, the comtesse presented them as Monsieur and Madame Valade. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. We men are like children. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. "You mistake,—you are mine. ‘Does she need a dowry for that?’ ‘Melusine believes so, and that is what counts.
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