You’re mine. "Boat there!" cried a voice, which Mr. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. 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. Ennison was deeply interested. I hope you won’t mind if I say first that I think it does me an extraordinary honor that you should think of any one like myself so highly and seriously, and, secondly, that I wish it had not been written.
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