“Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. “No! I want to do without that. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired. In you—if you can love me—there is salvation.
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