He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. But the sheer tenacity of the girl defeated him. ‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. It might be upset. Already the seed of a tender dream was stirring. ’ Melusine’s eyes flashed. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon.
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