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She fidgeted and looked away. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. Melusine turned and turned, unable to imagine just where the secret door could be. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents.
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