‘Do not speak any more for you give yourself pain,’ said Melusine fearfully. I don't want her hurt. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. ‘Parbleu,’ she uttered indignantly. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all.
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