Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. And the bedchamber, for which Melusine instantly headed, was almost bright. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down.
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