Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. ‘This is the way you tell me that you love me? You English idiot, you!’ He seized her wrists to hold her off, actually daring to laugh, much to Melusine’s increased fury. .
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