He had to know the truth, Melusine. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend. He was mad. He never felt any need to explain himself. “John, don’t!” she cried. Now we meet again, and you will scarcely look at me.
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