‘Her name is Melusine Charvill,’ Gerald began. ‘I had no need of the place, and there was no money, of course. First, I went to Country Tom's, the Goat, in Long Lane. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note.
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