"Ruth?" he called. He leaned forward to embrace her. ‘I do not remember the name,’ Melusine said, turning to Mrs Ibstock. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. ‘I must, for that the pig has already gone to monsieur le baron. Why? Because she knew him in life, because, so long as she could remember, he had crossed and recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff.
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