Listen, Jack. ‘Lay him down on a sofa,’ Melusine said, coming out behind them and moving towards the antechamber. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. She produced a handkerchief, and with one sweep of this and a simultaneous gulp had abolished her fit of weeping.
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