He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. Last week. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent. ‘You would say that already then you love me?’ His glance was a caress and Melusine’s resolve weakened.
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