‘That was one of my own clever stories. Besides, it was under false pretences. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. ’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm. ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows. It was hard to associate her with the stories which he and all Paris had heard of “Alcide. She loved her mother Marina more than any other thing in the world and could not bear to speak to her for a fortnight after being told her fate. ’ Grasping the lantern, and heedless now of the discomforts of the passage, Melusine flew like the wind back towards the library, the vision of Jack Kimble’s white face driving her on.
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