“But, my dear!” said Ann Veronica’s aunt. It might as well be Melusine herself. Everything in this world changed—except human folly. “Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you,” he said. This is not what I want. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside.
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