” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. After all, you may easily come to fetch Mrs Ibstock when you need her. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits.
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