And here against a wall were the plumtrees. He carries with him something that will mark him anywhere—the girl. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful. Spurling. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. To disillusion her, forthwith. He gurgled as if trying to communicate.
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