The Scot understood that, gently and indirectly, Ruth was asking her husband a question, opening a door if he cared to enter. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. But you have, haven’t you?’ He tutted again. Until this instant, he discovered, he had thought of Melusine’s plan only in a nebulous fashion, a naïve girl’s dream. Three cars were lined up in the driveway. —Gentlemen, your most obsequious trout. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside.
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