‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. “I didn’t know you were so keen on this suffrage business. It’s a mismatch. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. But at length, there was a click, and with a swish, the panel of painted books swung outward from the wall. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting.
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