"What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. I am an independent sort of person,” she continued, “and I am engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. "It is your son. Oh, and only look at those stains,’ cried Miss Froxfield, gesturing at the blood on the ruffles to the sleeves of Melusine’s riding-habit, and on the chemise she wore under it. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. Unless it was a jewel or locket of some kind. “There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness.
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