It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. . Anna sat quite still for a moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. ’ ‘He does not call himself my father, for he calls himself nothing at all,’ Melusine told him, her tone violent with fury. She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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