She went across to the little window again, her back to Melusine. “What did it matter?” she cried. ‘By traitors I am surrounded!’ ‘Stop talking utter twaddle,’ ordered Roding, marching up to the desk. She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. You will be free to remarry, of course.
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