She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. " "That reminds me he's still at large," returned Ireton. Yet there was nothing for her to do. His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born.
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