In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. Who she is I have not discovered, but she is masquerading as Melusine, and for all I know, is not even married to the man who calls himself Valade. But, rather than be the cause of any further misunderstanding between you and my benefactor, I will leave London and its neighbourhood for ever. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool.
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