She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. Mind, I, Baptist Kettleby, say so. Once before—but that had been different. ’ Melusine bit her lip. And all the third act is love-sick music.
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