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She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. Something softened in Melusine’s chest. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. ’ Melusine remembered a thin man of sour aspect, living—like her father and his wife Suzanne—off the vicomte’s bounty. Do I blow off the head of a man with whom I am in love?’ ‘That,’ said Gerald, disengaging his hand and at last drawing her into his arms, ‘deserves a reward.
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