The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. “I have given it up,” she answered. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one.
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