“My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. ‘And take you this sword. His attention was focused on Melusine’s transfixed stare and he forgot to say any of the things he had planned to say. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead.
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