So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. This forthright dame was so excited, she could not keep still, but paced about the parlour much as Melusine had done earlier. I might utter a million, and still I doubt if I could make you understand.
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