The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. ‘Courage,’ urged her spouse. “What else can happen?” asked Miss Miniver, with a little weak gesture at the glow. I told you no good would come of it. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. Melusine seized her chance. Her little white hand stole across the table.
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