’ About to hurry from the little parlour, Melusine remembered Mrs Ibstock. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. The lady looked them over in silence, and then pouting lips trembled, dark eyelashes fluttered, and in a broken voice, she pleaded, ‘Honoured messieurs, you will not allow this—this pig, to be thus cruel? He cannot arrest me.
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