There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. A rare moment of amusement lightened Melusine’s mood for a moment. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. "I am so excessively fond of snuff.
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