Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. “Agreed,” he said with queer exaltation, and his grip tightened on her hand. Tears sprang to her eyes. The rest were hieroglyphic characters, executed in red chalk and charcoal. I said, that day at Surbiton, ‘There’s many good things in life, but there’s only one best, and that’s the wild-haired girl who’s pulling away at that oar. ‘I know, Melusine.
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