Your father has forbidden you to go!’” “Well?” “She said, ‘I hate being horrid to you and father, but I feel it my duty to go to that ball!’” “Felt it her duty!” “‘Very well,’ I said, ‘then I wash my hands of the whole business. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. ‘Do not speak any more for you give yourself pain,’ said Melusine fearfully.
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