’ ‘What matters it?’ cried Melusine impatiently. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. His father spoke for him. “I’ll buy a new one. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head.
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