Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. ’ ‘Certainly he is not a friend,’ Melusine agreed, ‘but he has gone, after all.
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