" "I am," replied Jack, without hesitation; for he felt assured from the man's manner that he might confide in him. “Oh no, you’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” “No Julian. She didn’t trust Gianfrancesco, you know, she called him a ‘bad husband’. She had even played in an opera by Verdi once, but had to dress as a boy to do it. That is what they call these aristocratic refugees, the English. And the bedchamber, for which Melusine instantly headed, was almost bright. I’m the sort of dog, if you turn it out of the room it lies down on the mat at the door. I am a man—of a sort of experience. She said as much to him. We’ll run away together, we’ll elope.
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