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He claimed me for his wife, and showed to every one a marriage certificate. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. Then Melusine jumped back into the fencer’s pose, on guard, the point of the wicked blade directed towards her enemy. And the less “anything” happened the better. He smiled inwardly. The boy was right. He leaned back in a low chair, and watched her graceful movements, the play of her white hands as she bent over some wonderful machine. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background.
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