Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. We've made a pretty penny by him—sixty guineas this blessed day. ’ Impatience overtook Melusine’s resolve momentarily.
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