"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. ’ ‘Lady Bicknacre too,’ said Lucilla, a delight in her voice that grated on Melusine. “Which one?” “The one whose life you have been making a burden, who has been all the time shielding her sister. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. “My dear Anna,” he answered. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. ’ ‘Not if you want one of good family, no,’ he agreed mildly.
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