In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. What could I do?’ ‘Anything but to bring him to me,’ Melusine threw at him. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other.
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