She further suspected that he might find a servant to dally with in the meantime, if he had not already. By this action, Lucy already knew what the answer was. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. “MY DEAR MISS PELLISSIER,— “To-morrow the six months will be up. “Your friend, “DAVID COURTLAW. He opened the drawer of the writing table. ’ ‘Bon,’ exclaimed Melusine, triumph soaring.
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