Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. It is of no use. All the turnkeys were assembled. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her. It was a simple wish. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. She would end this sham with Manning. Sheppard.
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