” “I don’t care if it does,” said Ann Veronica. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them.
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