Melusine was loath to admit how much more lonely since Gerald chose not to visit her. ‘I’ve had enough of this. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. Goodbye. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. There!" Out of the dark unruffled sapphire of the lagoon came vertical flashes of burning silver, singly and in groups. "Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. Perhaps it was loneliness. " "Yield to nothing," returned Wild, trying to re-assure him; "above all, when your designs prosper.
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