It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation. “I wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself. Nobody toys with me.
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