‘Gammon. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. On the Day he had trumpet-like outbreaks of cordiality, varied by a watchful preoccupation. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place.
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