155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. ” “You can’t be that,” said Ann Veronica, wisely. “I would give my life for you. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. But she had loved the man.
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