A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Miss Ellicot, who sang ballads, and liked Brendon to turn over the pages for her, tossed her head. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. She said you HAD some money. ‘First I must see Jacques, and—’ ‘No need for that,’ intervened Roding, grasping her arm and trying to drag her to the door.
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