The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. I love you calling me Gérard and idiot, and I love you when you threaten me with every weapon under the sun, and—’ ‘Pah!’ interrupted Melusine, scorn in her voice. ’ ‘Sir!’ came from Trodger, and the booted feet clattered off and out of the front door. ’ His head came thrusting out at Melusine like a belligerent tortoise from its shell. "What of her?" cried the knight.
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