’ She pronounced it with a French inflexion, but Gerald understood her to mean the English name he knew. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. What the devil is her name, now we know she isn’t you?’ ‘Yolande,’ supplied Melusine. It never is. He wanted her named Mary. It was now evident that he had not been normal that first day. Accompanied by Sir Cecil, who still continued passionately enamoured of his sister, and to whom he represented that she had fallen a victim to the arts of a seducer, he set off, at fiery speed, for the metropolis. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. “Lady Mackinnor,” she said, “I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. Money was not necessary; indeed, it would have embarrassed all concerned.
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