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’ ‘Melusine,’ repeated the old lady. You are much more like what I was then. "Mother!" cried the son, "help!" "What is this?" shrieked Lady Trafford, raising herself on the couch, and extending her hands towards him. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten. My mother died the day I was born; that’s what they tell me.
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