She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. Blueskin will go with you,—for fear of a mistake. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. Too many. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. . And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion.
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