He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. I didn’t go out of my way or anything. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. Back, that you may be close together. Melusine’s heart jumped and she felt heat rising into her cheeks. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in.
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