’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me.
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