The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. But she veiled her feelings. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account.
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