‘Before she can think of marriage, Melusine must prove her identity. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet. It was his turn to express astonishment. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. He has nothing to fall back upon, no substitute; but a woman always has the mother love. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers.
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