The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. With your pencil you see into the hearts of all; and without your pencil you are dumb and blind. Ramage?” he asked. If he had imagined Melusine would be hampered by her petticoats, he was disappointed. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. “She’s all right. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. “He’s got almost to like it.
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