There was, it might be said, a double illumination. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. The strong potation he had taken, combined with fatigue and anxiety he had previously undergone, made him oversleep himself, and when he awoke it was just beginning to grow light. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. "He has heard of your wonderful escapes, and wishes to see what you're like. The young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him. But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held on a steady course. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort. She put her hand in his to be squeezed.
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