” Mr. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. Simply. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. Something namelessly abhorrent in the eyes of those men…! She knew what arms were for—to fold and embrace and to hold one tightly; but why men wished to kiss women was still a profound mystery. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. She felt she had to go on.
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