He knew she had been weeping. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. He never asked questions; he never addressed his companions; and frequently he took off his cap and wiped his forehead. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart.
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