"A little. I'll go alone. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. I know what I am talking about. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping. CHAPTER I.
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