‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged.
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