’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. Good night! God bless you!" Upon this, there was a great shaking of hands, with renewed apologies and protestations of friendship on both sides; after which Mr. ’ Melusine caught the fellow eyeing her with resentment and beckoned as she called out to him. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. Norris entered the room, followed by Father Spencer. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine. His long struggle with himself, his avoidance of her were quite unnecessary.
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