’” “I have no choice,” Anna declared. ’ ‘I fetched them with my clothes when the son of madame took me to see Marthe,’ Melusine admitted. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him.
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