“—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. ” She refused. “Not much,” he answered, “and yet about all there is to be known, I fancy. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. ‘Very clever, Mademoiselle Melusine. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words.
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