From then on he was Ruth's dog. “You certainly are. ‘What’s this? Impertinence! French manners, is it?’ ‘Grace à vous,’ Melusine threw at him fiercely. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. The girl nodded sagely. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. " "Oh!" exclaimed the widow, covering her face with her hands. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. It loves to sit on your knee.
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