Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. She twisted her fingers tightly. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. What a treat to see all the old tabbies taken at fault for once!’ ‘You are a dreadful child,’ scolded Mrs Sindlesham, with which Melusine could not but agree, despite the dimple rioting in her great-aunt’s cheek. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief.
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