All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. Men usually do. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. Melusine got to her feet and, tucking her shoulder under his arm on the uninjured side, put her arm about him to hold his waist, and thus contrived to take most of his weight. “Are you feeling okay?” “Just fine.
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