’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. ’ Melusine frowned, placing her hand on the letter lying on the table.
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