The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. He got up brusquely. It was just then that she came face to face with Nigel Ennison. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. ’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur.
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