That would not help her. In her ears there was a medley of sound: wailing music, rumbling tom-toms and sputtering firecrackers. Suddenly she understood. ‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. ‘I assure you it suits her as Mary would not. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. A pretty name for a pretty girl. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield.
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