And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose.
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