“Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. Arrived at his habitation, Jonathan knocked in a peculiar manner at the door, which was instantly opened by the grim-visaged porter just alluded to. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. ‘Now then, my girl, why the long face?’ Melusine had no hesitation in placing her trouble before her old nurse, for it was Martha who had made her aware of her true history. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob.
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