“You seem to forget that my sister is—married. Of course, at home there would have been questions. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. ’ ‘Was it yours?’ Insulted beyond bearing, Melusine lost her temper. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. ’ He grimaced. Her father for fifteen years, and you now for the rest of her life! Tell her you're a thief. “It was the night you left Paris. ‘You do not understand, Gérard. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry. One cannot expect that soldiers can be sympathique to one they believe may be a French spy.
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