’ Melusine remembered a thin man of sour aspect, living—like her father and his wife Suzanne—off the vicomte’s bounty. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. The particulars of her engagement were very clear in her memory. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant.
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