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‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. She breathed deeply.
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