A rare moment of amusement lightened Melusine’s mood for a moment. It was a haunted place. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. "That is easily explained. I want to boast myself. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving. Thames Street was wholly impassable.
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