. He was amused. He waited. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. She was with these movements—akin to them, she felt it at times intensely—and yet something eluded her.
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