’ Melusine remembered a thin man of sour aspect, living—like her father and his wife Suzanne—off the vicomte’s bounty. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. In this way, more than a month passed over. I don’t want to know. She spoke with fluent enthusiasm. Know that, don’t you?’ ‘Of course I know it,’ Lucy told him, and Melusine read the whisper in her mouth of those precious words, ‘I love you.
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