But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. ’ Melusine bit her lip. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. “You will not give Sir John any cause for jealousy? You will have no secrets from him except—concerning those things which are past?” “Anna, I swear it!” her sister sobbed. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite. “So that’s the way it is. Wary they might be. She knew, too, she must not hesitate.
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