“Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking. ’ ‘So I see. He had to know the truth, Melusine. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. ‘Then it must certainly be Eugénie.
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