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‘A thing Marthe told me of,’ Melusine answered, her attention on the garments that were still lying higgledy-piggledy, just as she had left them. But I will never—never return. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. ‘I do not know if even I can do anything now. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as the painting was turned towards him. “Your sex is a terrible fraud. The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. But the sheer tenacity of the girl defeated him. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are not girls of the street. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind.
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