’ He took the thing from Melusine’s listless grasp and went on, ‘Now then, what’s all this here argy-bargy with Pottiswick?’ Melusine opened her eyes and straightened up. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. My own impression is that he already knows. He, however, made no remark at the time, but instantly prepared to set out. It's certain.
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