He was an imaginative young man. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers. He began to talk again in quick undertones that she could not clearly hear. "Neither man nor woman shall apply that term to me. The candle was shaking in his hand as Ruth appeared in the doorway. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. I do not say guest because that suggests friendship; and I am no friend of this Wastrel.
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