“I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start. Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through her to match it. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad. On the way he confessed. Then her eyes flashed. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion.
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