"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine. I must apologize, I suppose, for speaking to you, but your appearance certainly indicated that you were in some sort of trouble, and you were becoming—pardon me—an object of comment to the passers-by. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. . Do you think that it makes for happiness to force oneself into the extravagant belief that love is the only thing in the world worth having, and to sacrifice for it independence, self-respect, one’s whole scheme of life. "I was merely about to observe that I am in possession of her secret. " He smiled at her as he smiled at death, cheerfully. Like the flaws of an old marble.
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