” “I ought to have—all the same. ’ ‘But if I am with you, as André Valade, as your husband, an émigré—’ ‘Pah!’ Melusine spat. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table.
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