The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. Balked, Melusine halted. . ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view.
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