Melusine cursed herself for his injury. “Here we are, living in the same suburb,” he began. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. The man turned at the exclamation, and so did several of the bystanders; but they could not make out who had uttered it.
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