And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. "You've perjured yourself. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant.
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