"No!" she cried. I'm no mollycoddle. Anna found herself next Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. ” The irrepressible smile curved Anna’s lips. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. Her mother…. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it.
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