Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke. " "Let me go," implored Mrs. ’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast.
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