’ Melusine sobered, sitting down again. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. She evolved a dim image of herself cooped up in a house under the benevolent shadow of Mr.
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