Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. In the centre of the upper gallery was a spacious saloon, appropriated to the governors of the asylum. D. Ann Veronica watched her face, vaguely sympathizing with her, vaguely disliking her physical insufficiency and her convulsive movements, and the fine eyebrows were knit with a faint perplexity. Until this instant, he discovered, he had thought of Melusine’s plan only in a nebulous fashion, a naïve girl’s dream. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. Capes came back into her mind. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger.
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