The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. And you tell me that the reason you are doing all this is so that you can marry an Englishman!’ Melusine giggled. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town.
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