You're in luck to-night, widow. ’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. “There is someone in my rooms,” Anna said. She is English, and apparently in some distress. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger.
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