‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. . ’ Melusine shrugged, and crossed to the plain door beside which hung a bell. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. " "And I'm glad your worship's recognition doesn't come too late," observed the Master. She had looked forward to an explanation.
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