‘Lucy, do not say that you have told everyone all that I have done?’ ‘Well, yes, but—’ Consternation filled Melusine’s breast. Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town.
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