"Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. Aware of the cunning and desperate characters of the persons with whom she would have to deal,—aware, also, that she was in a quarter where no laws could be appealed to, nor assistance obtained, she felt the absolute necessity of caution. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. But, by Jove! it’s going to make our loving a fiercely abstract thing. Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. “It’s precious unromantic. You’re a little late, you must remember, and we are punctual people here.
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