He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. What need had she of Gerald, or anyone? Yet, if he was here, would he not make some foolish game with her and make her laugh? Instead of behaving in this fashion so stupide, and crying, crying, crying. Melusine crossed to open it, and immediately the knocking intensified in volume. "So it appears," replied Marvel.
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