’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. “You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. “I suppose there’s no way of getting a decent income—independently.
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