His attention was focused on Melusine’s transfixed stare and he forgot to say any of the things he had planned to say. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace. "Where?" "That can wait," she answered. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections.
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