’ ‘Eh bien, you are not a saint,’ Melusine snapped. “Not to-night,” she said. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. "Surely," she said, after a pause, "you don't attach any importance to what my mother has just said. “Allow me. Pshaw!" added he, making an effort to subdue his emotion, "I can't leave you in this way.
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