CHAPTER XIX. ’ Melusine’s voice petered out. ‘Never mind where. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses.
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