‘It is London’s loss, ma’am. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. ‘He’d have been that happy if he’d known how you’re the spit of her, miss. "There, Sir," she added, unlocking the door, "you can go in. Tell Bess to slip out, and I'll put on her cloak and hood. There’s a hansom coming round the corner. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers.
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