’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. ’ ‘Why should I?’ ‘Because I can’t live without you!’ ‘That is your own affair, and—’ Melusine broke off, staring at him, shocked realisation kicking in her gut. “Forty guineas a week. I want you beyond measure or reckoning. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. The gong will go at seven-thirty.
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