This is no place for me. The library was on the ground floor, Melusine recalled from the previous visit, for she had searched through a desk in a room filled with bookshelves of leatherbound volumes. She rose, paid her bill, and turned westwards. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. You take them. I must leave England to-night. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling.
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