Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. ” He did not appear to require any answer to his question. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. Meysey Hill—never your wife.
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