’ ‘But where then is Gosse?’ demanded Melusine. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence.
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