“But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. Her tone was hoarse with passion. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. “Well!” she declared good-humouredly. S.
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