“Nothing was ever done,” Miss Brett asserted, “without a certain element of Faith. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. ’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. It was so difficult to put precisely. .
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