. ’ ‘He said!’ Melusine uttered scornfully. This year—I’ve got it badly. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. You do not need me to remind you of your success at Paris. This circumstance produced no further alteration in his demeanour except that he endeavoured to abstract himself from the surrounding scene, and bend his attention to the prayers which the ordinary was reciting.
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