‘Exactement. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. ‘You escape from your own convent, at great personal danger. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. She went to the post-office and drew out and sent off her money to Ramage. I've been thinking about it ever since morning.
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