Anna never knew whither it had led her— sometimes she had fears. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded.
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