"Precisely. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. ’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. If he senses fear in the touch of your hand, he'll give you trouble. ’ Melusine put her arm through his in a friendly way and moved with him outside to stand on the porch, leaning into him in a confidential way. " Thames tried to answer her, but his voice failed him. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle.
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