On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ‘Dunderhead. But Jonathan, fixing a terrible look upon him, cried. It is only a matter of time before he presents himself to whoever has the deeds to Remenham House—a lawyer I presume—and claims that property for his wife’s. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. ‘You don’t even know what it means, do you?’ Melusine frowned. Furiously, she dashed his hands away.
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