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“Please don’t,” she said. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. Oh, you must believe me. ‘Go you through the passage and find the other door. 6. How will I get an Englishman to wed me if they know that I behave not at all comme il faut?’ ‘Perhaps the Englishman in question will not care,’ suggested Prudence, with a twinkle in her eye for which Melusine was quite unable to account. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity.

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