There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure.
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