’ ‘Miss Melusine Charvill,’ he repeated, ‘is a convent-bred genteel girl, who is in all probability the granddaughter of General Lord Charvill. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. I have just come from him. He must be gone to dispose of the body.
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