“I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. She bent down. “I am very glad that you have come here. Mr. ‘This is the way you tell me that you love me? You English idiot, you!’ He seized her wrists to hold her off, actually daring to laugh, much to Melusine’s increased fury. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. And I’ll have that story off you as we journey back to town. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions.
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