Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. Treasure caves to explore! All through these trying days she had recurrently wondered what this strange young man would have to say that Dickens and Hugo had not already said. She crushed the letter in her hand. ’ ‘Then Gérard may come back,’ Melusine cried involuntarily on a sudden rising hope.
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