‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. “Who, me? I scare you?” He asked. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. It must be somewhere hereabouts.
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