The girl had told him distinctly that her name was Anna. “What’s that for?” He said. Her father was right: Ruth must never know. ’ ‘But you say that I was born here,’ objected Melusine. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. Melusine fetched her stool and plonked it down next to her great-aunt’s chair. Strange, I could never learn her history. He held in his hands many threads.
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