Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. Melusine came close again, and reached up a finger tentatively to the face depicted there. A little Madeira seemed to recover her enough to resume the discussion. He halted,—looked fearfully around,—stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don't like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr. Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening. “I want to be your friend,” he said.
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