He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. ’ Joy rose in Melusine’s bosom. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. Wood. John’s demeanor shifted. In the corner of the room were two hockey-sticks and a tennis-racket, and upon the walls Ann Veronica, by means of autotypes, had indicated her proclivities in art.
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