’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station.
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