They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. Miss Charvill. Immediately Spurlock began to chant one of these. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Take it," he cried, lifting the babe from the bottom of the boat, and flinging it towards its unfortunate father. " "Trying to. He would take with him that traitress Yolande, and claim to the lawyer that this was Melusine Charvill.
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