I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. And, fearing you might not come to me, I forced my way hither, even with certainty of discomposing your friends. You were probably robbed in Hong-Kong. ’ ‘But you are excessively clever, Jacques,’ cried Melusine, relief flooding her.
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