Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. And―and he wanted to help you. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. That's a queer yarn. I can't bear it. Melusine tapped on it. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed.
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