“What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. ’ This was Leonardo’s philosophy. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that. His assistance came too late.
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