Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. She was vaguely happy over this arrangement which put her in the wing across the middle hall, alone. ’ Annoyance sent Melusine leaping to her feet.
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