“MY DEAR VERONICA,—Your aunt tells me you have involved yourself in some arrangement with the Widgett girls about a Fancy Dress Ball in London. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. She told you —the truth. ’ Melusine blinked at this competence. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. ” Michelle joked. I don’t care what divides us. But I never betray an old customer. ’ Melusine stifled a giggle.
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