\"Of course it is okay. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. ’ He frowned again. How did you meet him?’ ‘He was wounded and came to the convent for sanctuary,’ Melusine told him, stung by his criticism into revealing more than she had intended. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. "What?… Oh!… Well, good Lord!" He wrenched loose his head and stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor.
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