" "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. ‘Deaf? Deaf? I’ll have you know, miss—’ ‘Do not have me know anything,’ interrupted Melusine crossly, and digging into her habit, produced the fateful dagger that had cut Gerald’s hand. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten.
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