She would never again be lonely. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. ‘I am done, Gérard. ‘You are rude, and stupide, and altogether a person with whom I do not wish to speak. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. It might as well be Melusine herself.
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