The Wastrel did not relish this. Wood, at Dollis Hill —" "Let me have one," said a carpenter, who was passing by at the moment,—"Mr. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest.
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