‘Here we go again. ’ ‘You’re going to break into the house? You’re mad. Moving to the shuttered window, Melusine dragged the heavy drapes back. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. She’ll have to wait for dinner,” he said, uncomfortably. Anna lets the deception continue and has to bear the burden of her sister’s reputation which, in Paris at any rate, is that of being a coquette.
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