’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. The simile started a laugh in his throat. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. "You've ruined my hopes. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. ” She played with her hair. . " "It may be; but if it shortens the distance and lightens the journey, I care not," retorted the widow, who seemed by this reproach to be roused into sudden eloquence.
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