’ ‘Melusine!’ came sharply from the doorway. She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. That, Sir, is what I call being a Good Samaritan. The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. It was Blueskin. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. Besides, I don't think he's going to ask, if that is what you are getting at.
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