" Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. “Tut, tut!” he said. The sing-song girl, seeing Ruth, extended her hands and began to chatter rapidly. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. She went across to the little window again, her back to Melusine.
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