He stood with his hands in his pockets looking at Miss Klegg’s back. ’ Melusine did not forget. He was not there. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. ’ ‘Did no one know, then?’ ‘No, for the vicomte, we learned later, wrote to General Lord Charvill in pursuit of his sister. .
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