‘Why, that’s one of the names with which she tried to fob me off. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. Other phrases returned now, like echoes.
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