’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. .
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