The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. But her words were not addressed to Melusine. When first you left your home you had no idea that I was the hidden impulse. Guiding this man of hers over the troubled sea of life had engraved these lines. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. "You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland," he said, after he had twice counted them, "or I've missed my reckoning.
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