’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. . She kept pausing in her work and regarding it, and when Capes came round to her, she first put her hand in her lap and then rather awkwardly in front of him. I’d need to be out of my senses.
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