I have brought disgrace upon you, and I haven’t been the right sort of wife at all. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. She could not make up her mind which was the finer, more elemental thing, which gave its values to the other. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind.
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