Leastways, she’d be your greataunt, wouldn’t she?’ Astounded, Melusine was just about to demand further information, when a commotion outside the room interrupted her. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. One morning he caught her hand suddenly and kissed it.
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