And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. ‘Sir?’ Hilary threw a brief glance at Trodger, and quickly returned his intent gaze to the Frenchman, who had halted once more, and stood as if thinking deeply.
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