Mon cher major, Melusine began. . F. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly. Melusine stepped back a pace, her gaze fixed on the vision before her. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true.
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