’ ‘Lady Bicknacre too,’ said Lucilla, a delight in her voice that grated on Melusine. Lucy followed her. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH THE COLLAPSE OF THE PENITENT Part 1 Spring had held back that year until the dawn of May, and then spring and summer came with a rush together. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind.
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