’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. H'm!" Over the desk, on the wall, was a map of the South Pacific archipelagoes, embossed by a number of little circles drawn in red ink. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze.
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