They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. Answering him was agonizing. But her words were not addressed to Melusine.
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