Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. Half the rooms empty. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered.
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