Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. But there was something in his face at once stupid and invincible that told her he would go on forcing himself upon her, that he would esteem speech with her a great point gained. "Leave him to me," he said. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. She had animated dark blue-gray eyes under her fine eyebrows, and dark brown hair that rolled back simply and effectively from her broad low forehead.
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