. . “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. Melusine sighed with frustration. It would have been the right idea, had Ruth been other than what she was. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now.
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