‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. The shouts, yells, and groans which they uttered, and which were echoed by the concourse in the rear, were perfectly frightful. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. But what a monster was this Emile.
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