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" "Holloa! my hearty!" cried Ben, starting to his feet. Fas du tout. But his life, ruled by chance and the fight to survive had appealed strongly to Melusine’s rebellious spirit. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. "The poor young man!" she said. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. He kissed her fingers and grinned. I wasn’t.
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