If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. You are your nephew's executioner, or he is yours. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. Melusine ran up the stairway after him, her point flailing to frighten him into allowing her access to the chapel.
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