. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back.
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