‘She would say, espéce de diable, this Melusine. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet.
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