While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. And, yet, I don't know. He would take with him that traitress Yolande, and claim to the lawyer that this was Melusine Charvill.
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