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’ Before she could object, Melusine found herself hustled back into the house and dragged willy-nilly towards the library door, where Jack called softly. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. She was very pale, but she reminded him more at that minute than at any time of “Alcide” as he had first known her. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread.
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