Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. Melusine started back, blinking. You bring me this grandfather, whom you know well I do not in the least wish to see, for I have told you so. It was wrenched away from Melusine’s clutching hands. It was impulsive and natural. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. ’ For a moment he looked daunted.
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