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Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. He had taken it back. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. “I look older. ” She said. ‘No one is here, Melusine, except you and I. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. The word handsome was a little beyond her grasp. " "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard.
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