’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer. ” But now she doubted again of the quality of the armistice they had just made. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. But, though I cannot reward you, Heaven will. Thank you for walking me home the other day. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. Then she went back and mixed up the sheets in a search for particular passages. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand.
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