” Lights went on inside the house on the upper level. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. Voilà tout. His voice now had lost its ironies. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture. She shuddered; the room was unfamiliar and unwelcoming. His face turned a dark crimson. What a treat to see all the old tabbies taken at fault for once!’ ‘You are a dreadful child,’ scolded Mrs Sindlesham, with which Melusine could not but agree, despite the dimple rioting in her great-aunt’s cheek.
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