She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. ’ ‘I am going to England,’ Melusine stated flatly, ‘because there is no safety at the convent at Blaye. You can’t go. “I know. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how.
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