Occasionally he relit his pipe. ’ ‘You see,’ Melusine explained between mouthfuls of food, ‘poor Marthe had promised to my father that she will say nothing. So kind, so good to me always. "Begone! or I fire!" he cried. I needn't tell you to tread carefully. ’ *** The tapping for which Melusine had been waiting came at last. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud.
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