’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. "No, no!" With a gesture, fierce and intolerant, she seized the Bible and thrust it out of sight, into the drawer. I am almost old enough to be your father. It's infernally provoking. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. But she no longer felt Jacomo’s age, even if she looked it. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him.
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