And if you’ve any notion—’ ‘Yes, it is upstairs,’ Melusine agreed, crossing to the library door. A fortnight passed, then a month. Wood resounded from below. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. Only one penny—two copies—two pence—thank you, Sir. For all that, it is folly.
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