“There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. She was my first love. . ’ Tears sprang to Melusine’s own eyes, and she clasped the hand she held more tightly. Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand.
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