The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. “Just the box only. ’ ‘She again?’ enquired his hostess, her delicate brows rising ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. . She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train.
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