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’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. ‘Melusine was making herself mistress of them when we met. Your face has flitted out of my watch-fire, and then I have been a haunted man.
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