Loving was better than that. He has no imagination, no real generosity. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. ’ Melusine shrugged. Her little white hand stole across the table.
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