"Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. They were true noblemen, men of the court. What could I do?’ ‘Anything but to bring him to me,’ Melusine threw at him.
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