’ *** In the cosy little parlour that Pottiswick rarely used, Melusine paced restlessly to and fro. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. “I suppose you could at least tune it for us if you know how to play. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected.
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