“Why?” “I still love you. . ’ ‘Marry you!’ He shot off the desk, such horror in his face that Melusine felt a little irritated. Our men had him fast, held down in a chair. Let—it—fall. He laughed lightly. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead.
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