Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. Her fingers rested upon his. Let the law put its hand on his shoulder—if it could! But at present he was at liberty, and he purposed to remain in that state. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself.
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