‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. She stood up and he sat down at the microscope, and for a time he was busy scrutinizing one section after another. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. She felt the softest touch caress her cheek, and a wave of tenderness engulfed Melusine.
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