She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. She remembered that she had not gone to bed until two o'clock in the morning. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding.
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