They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house.
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