There were no mourners. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. ’ ‘Truly?’ asked Melusine, warmth lighting her bosom. Wood and several serving-men, all well armed, rushed into the room. Only an undermaid I was then. She almost submitted to this ending of her adventure. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain.
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