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I’m ashamed to confess it, but I didn’t want the charge of you—a too close reminder of my own lost babe. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’ ‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly. “My father’s sisters used once to live in the old manor house. For the sort of love-making you think about. Most of you Americans pattern all Chinese upon those who fill a little corner in New York. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. .
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