Always. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. 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. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. .
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