’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the centre of the room, but uttered in a low tone, full of suppressed anxiety, ‘How can he know? How can he know?’ ‘You mean how can he know that this is your house?’ Melusine looked up at him, distress in her eyes. He knew it absolutely, as if he had the check in his hand. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it.
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