The address was of course her destination, thousands of miles away, an infinitesimal spot in a terrifying space. He would take with him that traitress Yolande, and claim to the lawyer that this was Melusine Charvill. Caution forced her to speak calmly. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes. She did not know herself. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. All right! I’m off. ‘What would you? The nuns they would not believe me, and so it was not possible for me to stay.
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