” “Why?” Mr. ’ Melusine could not regard this view with anything but scepticism. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. "I had one," answered his sister, in a mournful voice; "and, perhaps, I have one still.
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