Her father and her husband, who had both been a little pale at their first encounter, were growing now just faintly flushed. As if it were she, and not Melusine, who had been hurt by the imposters. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. “You are so sweet, Lucy. What about your luggage?” “I could get a few of my things, at any rate,” she said. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. Don’t look so frightened.
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