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‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. ‘You wound me to the heart, Melusine. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. "I won't trouble you further, Jack," he remarked. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. According to Lucilla, this comtesse had constituted herself something of a social leader in the rapidly growing assemblage of refugees, and would undoubtedly be ready to introduce an eligible bachelor appropriately.
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