She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. Annabel, I cannot believe it. The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. She came quickly into the little parlour, which now seemed inordinately crowded, and coming up to Melusine, seized her hands in a warm clasp.
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