After all, old P. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Melusine cursed herself for his injury. Their conversation hung. She went next day to the schools, and her world seemed all made of happiness just worked up roughly into shapes and occasions and duties.
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