’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city.
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