’ ‘Oh, this is becoming nonsensical,’ exclaimed Lucilla. It is difficult to express these things. She seemed to be making some sort of inventory. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. ’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the centre of the room, but uttered in a low tone, full of suppressed anxiety, ‘How can he know? How can he know?’ ‘You mean how can he know that this is your house?’ Melusine looked up at him, distress in her eyes.
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