Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. ‘The more I hear about this Leonardo,’ Lucy said severely, ‘the more I want to meet your Melusine. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull.
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