“I confess it. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course. He had heard this talk before. Although Melusine had taken care to trouble herself about the hand she had cut, and was glad to find it healing very well. Too much, perhaps. She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. ‘She’s gone. She heard their feet and muffled voices. I won't have a beachcomber on the island.
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