Something softened in Melusine’s chest. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. ” Mr. Lucy arranged her hair as Michelle had taught her instead of combing it out. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. “You have succeeded a little too well in your personation,” she said bitterly, “to get rid very easily of Mr.
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