But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. ‘Major, sir!’ The major appeared so swiftly that Melusine was instantly suspicious. "My enemy," replied her son. What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her.
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