Melusine gritted her teeth. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Sindlesham, but do you tell me this inheritance that Melusine has fought so hard to recover is completely wasted?’ The old lady gave him a sharp look. ‘But that will do for a start.
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