Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. Melusine could not wish either to know how their kindness served only to emphasise the lack in her life ensuing from Gerald’s continued absence. But she was not there. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. Her nurse says she may live some time; but she seems to me to be sinking fast. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. But after a time I learned the ways of the parrakeets, and they would come down to me like doves in the stories.
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