” “Upon my word,” he declared, “you are right. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. ‘This is the way you tell me that you love me? You English idiot, you!’ He seized her wrists to hold her off, actually daring to laugh, much to Melusine’s increased fury. ‘It is what my father intended. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face.
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