\"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. As soon as he gets into blue water, he'll think no more of pitching the boy overboard than of lighting his pipe.
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