” The figure of her aunt, a little distant, a little propitiatory, behind the coffee things, filled her with a sense of almost catastrophic adventure. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. . She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. ’ ‘How can you say so?’ protested Melusine.
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