And Ritter’s, too, was very amusing and foreign and discreet; a little rambling room with a number of small tables, with red electric light shades and flowers. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his.
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