Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday.
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