She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. The proa bore away to the northwest out of which it had come. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. ’ Mischief overtook Melusine.
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