There wasn’t, I know, between myself and my father. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. “What are your objections?” she said. “You cannot! Oh, you cannot. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. Neither you nor your mother shall escape me.
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