’ ‘Yes, Hilary, do stop hustling the girl,’ put in Miss Froxfield, much to Melusine’s relief and approval. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. ‘Certainly this is true,’ she managed. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. Then with an indescribable relief her feet were on the pavement, and she was being urged along by two policemen, who were gripping her wrists in an irresistible expert manner. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon.
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