Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. Then, seeing Melusine’s feathered beaver had fallen to the floor, picked that up for her. ‘How did you know that Mary was his daughter?’ Gerald hesitated. As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin.
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