The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. “Excuse me a moment. ‘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. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Gerald grinned. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. “Why should it matter?” he said. My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes. The other was helping Trodger with his operation upstairs.
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