‘Quick, Gérard. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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