‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. I love you calling me Gérard and idiot, and I love you when you threaten me with every weapon under the sun, and—’ ‘Pah!’ interrupted Melusine, scorn in her voice. Annabel set her teeth hard, and turned fiercely towards Anna. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. Satisfied with his scrutiny, he produced a pocket-flask, and taking off the silver cup with which it was mounted, filled it with the contents of the flask, and then seizing the thin arm of the sleeper, rudely shook it.
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