She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. ’ She allowed herself to be pulled to the centre of the room, but uttered in a low tone, full of suppressed anxiety, ‘How can he know? How can he know?’ ‘You mean how can he know that this is your house?’ Melusine looked up at him, distress in her eyes. I have been thinking—I will go to my wife again. Womanhood is sacred to me.
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