Jack had been touched in the morning, but he was now completely prostrated. ‘Can’t you trust me a little?’ His touch sent shivers running through her, but Melusine did not withdraw her hand. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. In their happiest times, he was the most faithful and devoted of husbands. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened.
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