No window. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation.
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