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’ Melusine heard a note of triumph in his voice and turned, a questioning look in her face. She sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. "After him," cried Wild; "he mustn't escape.
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