She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. This is something above all rules. Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. D'ye hear. . “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly.
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