“Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. " "By no means," rejoined Wood, hastily. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. But finding his hints totally disregarded, he, at length, swaggered up to the table, and thrust in a chair.
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