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Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. She did not know herself. Dinner was served at 5:30. Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. His friendship seemed a thing worth having. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. We’ll go to the shops.
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