This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was a good chance for a new life,’ Joan explained, venturing to face Melusine again, ‘and Martha took it. I have only just left Wych Street. It’s not you—not a bit. Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness.
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