Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. ” She said. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “How will you live?” she appealed. ” She laughed. Her skin prickled. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose.
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