’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. Soup would help you feel better, soup and hot tea. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. ‘Melusine, if you don’t let go my hand—’ He broke off as she dragged a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty.
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