He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. ‘Now then, missie, where do you think you’re going?’ ‘I must see Jacques only for one little minute,’ Melusine told him prettily, fluttering her lashes. ” “He only heard this afternoon,” Sydney continued.
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