His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. ‘But that is excessively unkind of you, Melusine. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. But she had loved the man. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. A live man.
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