’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. Personally, however, I doubt if—’ ‘Charvill?’ interrupted Gerald without ceremony, all his senses at once on the alert. His hands reached under her skirt. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind.
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