The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. Poor Ben was not so fortunate. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime.
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