In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. ’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes.
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