" "No more of this," rejoined Thames, "or we shall quarrel. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. He was disquieted. It wasn’t pretty. The cloth nearly touches the floor. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand.
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