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‘Don’t know much about ladies’ clothes; should have said you were always very well turned out.’

‘It cost me something, though,’ said Flora in a low voice. ‘Don’t let’s talk of horrid things. I’m so happy. I’m free. free to do what I like. free not to-’


She stopped suddenly.

‘Not to what?’ asked Blunt quickly.

‘I forget now. Nothing important.’

Blunt had a stick in his hand, and he thrust it into the pond, poking at something.

‘What are you doing, Major Blunt?’

‘There’s something bright down there. Wondered what it was – looks like a gold brooch. Now I’ve stirred up the mud and it’s gone.’


‘Perhaps it’s a crown,’ suggested Flora. ‘Like the one Melisande saw in the water.’


‘Melisande,’ said Blunt reflectively-‘she’s in an opera, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, you seem to know a lot about operas.’


‘People take me sometimes,’ said Blunt sadly. ‘Funny idea of pleasure – worse racket than the natives make with their tom-toms.’


Flora laughed.

‘I remember Melisande,’ continued Blunt, ‘married an old chap old enough to be her father.’

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