’ Melusine bit her lip on a sharp retort. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. He was a manly man, free from any strong maternal strain, and he had loved his dark-eyed, dainty bright-colored, and active little wife with a real vein of passion in his sentiment.
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