She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. Something softened in Melusine’s chest. The day had become suddenly overcast. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness.
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