‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. ‘Now then, my girl, why the long face?’ Melusine had no hesitation in placing her trouble before her old nurse, for it was Martha who had made her aware of her true history. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. You are not with the Kent militia, are you?’ ‘West Kent, yes. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. For a moment, Kneebone had hesitated about giving the signal to Shotbolt, but, thinking a more favourable opportunity might occur, he determined not to hazard matters by undue precipitation.
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