“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face.
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