Mr. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. " "Peace, fool!" cried Marvel, angrily. ’ ‘You say—what?’ gasped Melusine. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously.
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