The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. “I never dreamt!” she said. "Done!" cried Shotbolt. ‘Don’t dare call her that to my face. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. Mon cher major, Melusine began.
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