Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. “She can’t go now. You’re of age— you’re of age. Why are you so anxious?" "Oh, if you can't see your way…. ’ ‘But tell,’ demanded Melusine impatiently. Her voice was weak and flat. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. But you must not imagine me wrapped in melancholy.
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