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Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. “I do,” Anna answered. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. ‘We will converse in your own tongue,’ he said in French as he led her away. Next instant, Melusine’s blade sank into Gosse’s flesh.
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