. ’ Amazed, Melusine stared at him. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. ‘Obsessed, that’s what you are. Yet the fact remains that you do not understand me at all. I only know that it is right to do what I do. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. “None, I thank you,” he answered.
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