She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. Then Melusine is in truth your granddaughter. It's only a gentleman come to offer you his hand. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly.
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