I meant to lie to you. It had ever been her policy, much to Melusine’s relief, for she was apt to complain that it only made her mad and there was nothing she could do about it. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. Not much. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. A new restlessness seemed to have stolen in upon her.
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