The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. ‘This was a picture of Mary Remenham that I have found today. Everything. She rode him gently. ’ ‘Melusine,’ repeated the old lady. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free.
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