But Melusine was a little inclined to like this side of the major. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. He was all alone, like herself.
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