You’re a piss-poor liar, John. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. “Why don’t you?” “Well, it might mean rather a row. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Light the lantern. For a space he rode the whirligig. ’ Gosse’s eyes went to the portrait, and evidently took in the uncanny resemblance, looking from it to Melusine and back again.
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