"It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. ’ Annoyance sent Melusine leaping to her feet.
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