Jack now carefully closed the shutters, while Blueskin struck a light, with which he set fire to a candle. Not much. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared.
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