" Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. Come and have lunch with me. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. "Ever play one of these machines?" "Yes. She looked away. She fled. Melusine gave herself a little mental shake. "No matter. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time.
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