If he had imagined Melusine would be hampered by her petticoats, he was disappointed. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. Her elbows were ready. "No Mohocks! No Scourers!" cried the mob. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers.
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