’ ‘But, no,’ cried Melusine anxiously. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him.
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