” “Does she have to sell her soul to the Devil?” Lucy asked, feeling stupid. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. ” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. He waited the pleasure of Monsieur. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. “I have been very selfish,” she declared. " "Man, in God's name, come with me and tell her this!" urged Spurlock. " "Ay, but it is strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's not intended.
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