Sir Rowland laid his hand upon his sword. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing. I do, however. Oh, I know. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. She leaped suddenly at a desperate resolution, and in one moment had made it into a new self. Only promise me to amend—to quit your vile companions—and I will forgive you—will bless you. Then he turned with a fierce movement to take her into his arms.
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