‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her.
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