“It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Manning relinquished his cup, and looked meaningly at Ann Veronica. As a matter of fact, I had never spoken to him before in my life. ’ 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.
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