It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. “You have even her name. Every one else does. He was an imaginative young man. Well, my dear, it is time you stopped wallowing in your sorrows like a common wretch. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others.
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