" "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. ’ Melusine giggled. "I don't know. " "Shall we do so?" whispered Winifred to her father. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from within. I am going to take you entirely at your word.
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