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“You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. CHAPTER VIII. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. No other white people within twenty miles. 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. I hadn’t heard of him before the trial.

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