His attitude toward her was purely intellectual, free of any sentimentality, utterly selfish. She was shifting, moving back. If only to say goodbye. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. ’ Melusine edged a little away from the portrait. In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. ‘Oh, peste.
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