’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. They were the only real marriages she had seen clearly. ’ Gerald could not resist. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. This too shall pass. “I do want you.
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