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“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. One night, she drew close to him in bed, trying to warm herself by embracing his back. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. Wood laughed louder than ever. I'd like to be alone now. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play.
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