She did not hear his approach, but continued her occupation without raising her head. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high. It might as well be Melusine herself. Spurlock has gone. .
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