’ Chapter Twelve In the elegantly appointed blue saloon, Melusine sat disconsolate, gazing out of the window at the dull sky. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. "The Dawn Pearl," he said.
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