’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house. If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. It was Annabel who spoke. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. ‘I can answer that. Scarcely had it come to a halt, when a stalwart man shouldered his way, in spite of their opposition, through the lines of soldiery to the cart, and offered his large horny hand to the prisoner.
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