Melusine—the real Melusine—would never have made such a stupid mistake. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side. I know in Paris you pinched and scraped that your sister might have the dresses and entertainments she desired. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. “None, I thank you,” he answered.
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