Melusine turned to look at the walls, and saw, immediately opposite, set between two candelabra above a marquetry side table, a gilded mirror. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. We shall have—hardly any money. Relief flooded her. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. Never any doubt of it.
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