Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. Melusine—the real Melusine—evidently did not see him immediately, for her attention was on her descent from the high vehicle. Austin could scarcely credit his senses when he beheld him. "Much better," said Mrs. .
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