“Thank you—for coming,” he said. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. ‘Well then, Melusine,’ he said calmly, ‘it seems as if we must get you your dowry willy-nilly.
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