‘Pitiful. Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness.
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