‘Her name is Melusine Charvill,’ Gerald began. "I haven't quite recovered the fright I got in the Vell-Hole," replied Abraham. But I don’t suppose you can understand. " So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. CHAPTER XXVI.
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