Wood; but they never come now. ’ ‘But it is imbecile,’ interrupted Melusine, struck by the impracticalities of her father’s scheme. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?.
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