They are their mother’s sons. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought. Very slowly, very fearfully, she turned her head. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Morals only begin when that is settled. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. The detective backed out slowly and closed the door without sound. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. “Not much. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently. Good heavens! She was discussing love-making. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse.
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